From the Sands of Afghanistan
by cloudsarefluffy
Summary: -COMPLETE.- An AU in which John is attacked in Afghanistan by something he can't identify. Later at the hospital, the doctors discover something abnormal about John's blood- it isn't human. They rush him over to Baskerville for testing, introducing him to Sherlock who works there as a scientist. Sometimes, change is good. JOHNLOCK. WEREWOLF. A/O STUFF. GRAPHIC PARTS.
1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this new fic! -SEE CHAPTER FOUR FOR REAL LIFE SHERLOCK DETAILS IN AUTHOR NOTE-**

**Anyways, I worked really hard on this and fixed a few errors. Anyways, I hope you like it!**

**Please leave reviews!**

**I appreciate any thoughts you might have! (:**

* * *

Sand, nothing but utter sand and fucking sand.  
The desert was a harsh place. Heat that would smolder the sun on a good day, everything so completely dry and hopeless.  
Even on it's own it's a force to be dealt with.  
It was a miracle that John even survived.

Let the fact he was getting shot at constantly by several deadly and unfriendly enemies be, but just the fact he was able to make in the terrain alone was amazing.  
For this long? With a war going on with him in the middle of it?

It was indeed, a miracle of sorts.

To even be deployed as a doctor was hardening. John was put there to stitch up deep wounds, administer medication, help the dying ease- and here he was, having to bring down his gun and fight for his life like a soldier on the front line.

The fight wasn't even supposed to be here.  
He wasn't meant to be here- not like this.

John was forced into becoming something he wasn't trained for.

It had been his seventh month in his deployment, a really rough little over a half-year, his patience and reserves running thin. He'd been fighting straight for thirty-two hours with no break, no relenting on either side. Failure was beginning to look like more and more like an ending rather than victory. The sun was beginning to give up it's relentless reign of heat and light to the moon when the attack worsened.

He hadn't been expecting the onslaught of what was once humans. Wolves, almost the size of small bears, to come running straight towards his unit across the sand like it was nothing but air. It was a bloody massacre, literally. So much dark and rusty crimson, so much violent and gruesome death. All in a matter of seconds, thankfully. John somehow wound up on the ground with a mangled shoulder bleeding out into the world's sandbox of destruction. His breathing heavily increased as he realized he was the only one still alive.

John cried, staring up at the emerging stars and the ghostly glow of the full moon as it rose slowly, ever so slowly. He cursed, he yelled, yet nothing happened. The pain was quite unbearable. John's body started to chill as twilight gave out to night. The temperature kept dropping, leaving John's wounded body to shiver as he slowly bled to death on the sand. He gave up the wolves as a delusion- too much lost blood, trying to cope with the deaths in his unit. Mind tricks. Simple, yet horrifying mind tricks.

They had lost to the enemy and nothing more. There was no more.

He just sighed out of exhaustion, giving in to the darkness surrounding his vision.

...

When John awoke, he was in a hospital bed. His heart monitor beeped quietly beside him as he groggily took in his surroundings.

"Ah, Mr. Watson. You're awake."

John nodded, "Obvious."

"You had us worried there. We thought you might have slipped into a coma."

"Where am I?"

The doctor checked the IV bags, "A medical base not that far from where you were stationed. I'm afraid that now you're awake we have to ask about what happened last night."

John stiffened, "Why is it you want to know? … Why me?"

"You're absolutely lucky, Mr. Watson. Everyone else in your unit wasn't compared to you. I'm afraid you're the only one left. I'm deeply sorry..."

"It's fine," John swallowed, "J-Just give me a minute."

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he wasn't completely shocked. From all the blood that night he thought as much for a second- just a second. Now, the full reality-shattering truth was just put onto his wounded and tired shoulders.

The doctor left, leaving John in his curtained off space to himself. Take time to adjust, accept the facts and truth. However saddening it may be, it didn't change it. Reality was reality and it should be treated as such. John took another leveling breath as his stomach churned with guilt. Why him? So many other people in his unit deserved to live- and definitely did not earn the right to such a gruesome, horrific death. They were John's friends, almost family- and the fact they were all gone sank down in his gut like a lead weight in water.

He was alone.

It was another hour before John could open his eyes again without the fear of completely losing it. Even though he lost everything, still didn't mean he couldn't try to start again- if he could. Maybe he would get sent back to London for this. What would he do then? The possibilities were endless, enough to make John's head ache a little with them. He stopped thinking- or tried to.

The doctor came in, "I'm going to have to take some blood, just run a few tests on it. Nothing but five minutes, tops."

John willingly held out his arm, "Take what you need."

The doctor smiled, taking a needle and placing it in the pumping vein around John's inner elbow. It stung a little, but what his comrades had to endure was unbelievably worse than this.

"Should be good for now, get a little rest. Your shoulder needs to heal."

John nodded, and closed his eyes and tried to drift off. After a few minutes there was yelling about and John wondered if a serious patient had come in.

Instead, some nurse ran over and put something in his IV and everything around John went dark.

* * *

Sherlock was deeply into his studies, searching every available thing he could see with his microscope.

He tests seemed inconclusive. Even though he enjoyed science, and was particularly fond of labs, this wasn't his true home. Sure, it was a substitute- but that still wasn't good enough for Sherlock. No, puzzles and mysterious crimes were Sherlock's home. Instead, he was stuck inside the Baskerville testing site as a bargain with his brother.

"Sherlock." Speak of the devil.

"What is it now Mycroft, I'm busy."

His brother set a file next to Sherlock, still involved with the specimen he'd taken from the beetle he tried to turn blue for fun, "You always are... Seems like I've got something interesting for you. Highly classified."

"How would this pertain to me, dear brother of mine?" Sherlock said monotonically.

He could sense the forced smile on Mycroft's face behind him, "It's a mystery, doctors in Afghanistan came across it. They sent word as soon as they found it. In fact, the individual involved should be arriving here in the next forty minutes."

"Individual? You mean a person?"

"Sadly, yes. A soldier in fact. It's all yours and yours alone. Consider it a present."

Possibilities rushed through Sherlock's mind. Chemical poisons, some type of foreign disease or parasite, maybe even some weird genetic mutation from being in the sun too long- like skin cancer of some various unknown sort. Possibilities, endless possibilities.

Mycroft left without another word as Sherlock picked up the file. When he opened it, it was labeled "**Dr. John Watson**" in bold, black letters. Interesting. As Sherlock continued reading, he saw the report of John's whole unit being frankly mutilated to the point of sending empty caskets home. John had been the lone survivor of the ordeal. It showed his military photo, his blue eyes staring back at Sherlock. He was blond, at least twenty-nine, and Sherlock could tell by the insignia on his uniform- an army doctor. Beside it, was the report of strange red blood cells present in John's sample, ones that weren't identified as human.

Interesting indeed.

"We've got another one comin' in!"

Sherlock turned, eyes narrowed as they pulled the unconscious man on the gurney towards the end doors of the lab. Sherlock would take this- no doubt. He felt the corner of his mouth twist up in a smirk.

He walked towards the pure white double doors as he slid his card through the scanner. Obviously, he was one in the few probably allowed to enter here- Anderson would be strikingly frustrated.

"He's unconscious for now, he'll wake up in an hour or two at the most- maybe less. Make sure his blood pressure doesn't drop."

Sherlock nodded as a clipboard was handed to him and he skimmed through, deeming if any of it was actually important, "I'll take it from here."

Inside the room, which Mycroft obviously had prepared for Sherlock's new experiment, was a large clear-glassed room. Inside was nothing more than the basic necessities- loo, bed, the basics. A shower was placed off to the side, only accessible if Sherlock gave permission to the poor John Watson. Beside it, was a small lab where Sherlock would probably spend the next few months trying to figure out the abnormality of John's bloodstream.

As the others left, Sherlock watched as John began to stir inside the room, bunching up the sheets on the bed as he awakened.

"Good to see you up." Sherlock smiled, walking over to a cart and setting the clipboard down.

"Where am I?"

"Not in Afghanistan." Sherlock smiled, taking a sip of water before getting a notepad.

"Wait," John rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm in London?"

Sherlock chuckled, "Afraid not, John. More along the lines of Baskerville."

John sat up rigidly, "Baskerville? The one with the-"

"Testing site? Military labs? Genetic variations testing? Quite indeed."

Sherlock watched as John tried to get a better grasp on his nervous breathing. His palms gathered up the sheets beneath him within his fists. Sherlock sighed, taking another sip as he added a little onto his every growing list of notes. He waited till the doctor was calm enough to continue.

"Do you know why you're here by chance?"

John shook his head, "I was in the medical bay last time I was conscious. I was clueless then, too."

"Want me to shed some light on it?"

"Would be nice." John said, voice controlled. He fixed the sling his left arm was currently in. Gunshot, the folder said- but Sherlock knew it had to do with something else.

Sherlock started walking around the glass room, "There was an anomaly in your blood cells, one to make to doctors call you out and sent here immediately. I have no idea what this- mutation- is, but I assure you I will get to the bottom of it. You have my word."

"Is it worth much?"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, "What?"

"Your word," John stared back as Sherlock stopped, "is it worth much?"

Sherlock debated. Sure, he'd lie, had a past for it. He only did it when deemed necessary or unavoidable- maybe even convenient. He'd never been asked before if his words meant anything. The question sunk into Sherlock's mind as John's unfaltering gaze fell upon him. No one had ever doubted or questioned him before, a trait along with the last name of Holmes. But this man, stranger to Sherlock and his intentions, didn't give a damn- only if it meant he was telling the truth. Sherlock was impressed.

John was defensive. Muscles tensed, breathing short and shallow. It was like he was getting ready to attack Sherlock if there were no glass. He saw those blue eyes glaring back, growing a shade darker in hue as John kept staring. It seemed odd. However, the menacing gaze did nothing to Sherlock physically, but emotionally he was backing down a little, wanting to take a step back. When did he ever want to back down to anyone? He fought back at the urge, and stared mutually towards John just as well. He realized in a few seconds, John lost his bite. Backing away like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. However, John still seemed to linger, and stayed a little bit alert towards Sherlock. He'd been sizing him up. Interesting.

"I certainly believe so."

"I'll decide that," John said, lying back down on the mattress, face towards the ceiling, "because that sounded completely self-centered to me."

Sherlock smirked, "In due time, John."

As Sherlock walked back to his new lab station, John rose from the bed, "What's your name?"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock. Although the circumstances aren't too favorable."

Sherlock chuckled, "Indeed."

Sherlock sat down in his new surroundings. This man, John, he didn't seem different. In fact, quite normal. Maybe the abnormality was only visible in liquid forms, like a microscopic virus or an eternal genetic mix-up. Sherlock placed his feet on the pristine desk, hands held together under his chin in scientific prayer. He'd find out the new mystery. The mystery of Doctor John Watson.

* * *

Nothing.

If John was ever bored before, nothing could compare to now. He stared at the plain, flat white ceiling as he heard even the tiniest of Sherlock's movements. In fact, he could hear everything. His head was aching with the fact that so much information from his senses filled into his body. It was torturous.

The only thing he could really see that wasn't white was himself, and Sherlock scurrying about. He had curly, dark- almost black hair, and was tall and lean. His voice was a deep baritone and surprised John a little when he first heard him. His eyes spoke for themselves. Other than that, John couldn't tell much about him. The thoughts only made his head pound worse.

"God," John moaned, "could you turn down these damned lights?"

"Are they bothering you?" Sherlock asked from his nearby lab.

John covered his eyes with his forearm, "Quite."

The scribbles of pen on paper reached John's ear easily before he heard Sherlock get up and shuffle around. Then, the movement of a dial.

"Better?"

When John opened his eyes, it was a blessing. In fact, it was like he was looking at the high quality version of reality. He could see everything, specs of dust, tones and textures he never knew existed, deeper and richer colours. It was absolutely gorgeous now the blinding light had been reduced.

"Oh my god, yes."

"You seem rather amazed."

John look towards Sherlock, he was leaning against the doorway to his lab, watching, "Amazed?"

Sherlock nodded, "Something's caught your attention."

"Well," John swallowed, "It's just... Can I be honest?"

"Always."

John sighed, "It seems as if everything is so much- better. Like before I was sensing everything through a thick barrier and now it's just... gone."

Another note taken down.

"What are you writing?" John asked, tilting his head a little as he heard Sherlock punctuate with a question mark, "Surely I can answer your question."

Sherlock looked up, "You can hear exactly what I'm writing?"

John nodded, "I've heard a whole lot since this morning. You were writing earlier, too. What about food that's so annoying?"

"Hmm..." Sherlock looked down at his notepad, options buzzing around his brain, "What's this?"

John listened, "Obvious, it's an A."

Another, "That's an R."

"Double shot. Two letters, okay?"

John didn't take much to realize the last to letter's, "Arse. Really, Sherlock? Out of all the words in the English language, you choose_ arse_."

"Remarkable."

John tilted his head again, "Remarkable? You think writing the word arse is remarkable? Go call up the Queen, I can practically hear your immaturity alongside it, let alone see it firsthand!"

Sherlock ignored John's sass.

"Absolutely fascinating!" Sherlock darted back into his lab, "It's as if your senses have doubled- tripled within the last seventy-six hours since your recorded wound!"

John sat very still on the too thin mattress. What was Sherlock saying? Somehow, John was magically able to hear him scribbling with a bloody pen just next door, to be able to hear the little boy write arse? John bit his lower lip, everything was just too confusing for him right now. It was as if his whole world had gotten flipped, turned inside-out, and upside down within the matter of three days. Now he was dealing with whatever had occurred that night within the sands of Afghanistan.

No, he couldn't think about that time again. Sherlock would surely go prodding. He already was watching with increased interest. Whatever happened that fateful night, would be guarded as John's last bit of undiscovered information- and would remain as such. He didn't give a damn the military was now treating him like some genetic fuck-up, this was his life. It was his choice. The primal urge to defend himself was overwhelming.

"What's going to happen to me?" John blurted, voice hard.

Sherlock stopped moving around papers and stilled, the question catching himself off guard, "I'm not sure what you're asking, John."

"The question's quite clear, I just think your answer isn't."

Sherlock stepped out of his lab, brow raised and a mug in hand, "If you are implying that I am going to perform torturous tests- than you are wrong, John. Even if this abnormality landed you here under my list of care, this does not mean I don't respect the laws and means of nature. I won't do anything more with your blood and DNA than try and deduce what changed it and how, and won't do anything but exercise you and gauge your physical reactions to certain stimulus."

"Glad to know you guys respect your guinea pigs."

"We do."

John snorted, "If you meant by literal ones, you should have made it clear."

"I thought it was obvious."

John rolled his eyes, laying back down on his mattress, "Sure it was... What are you going to do with me today, Doctor?"

Sherlock took a sip of his tea, "Endurance and strength tests. Kind of like a yearly check-up or a physical."

John closed his eyes, "Point the way Sherly, I'll run."

"Sherly?"

"Get used to it, _Sherly_."

He heard the muttered words under Sherlock's breath. Every one, "I'll get you back for that."

"Sure you will."

The tests were rather simple. John was hooked up to monitors as he was told to do a certain activity within a set amount of time. John never hit his physical limit, for once. He found running to be an ease, an enjoyable fact he could stretch his cramped legs and give the power they were built for. It was intoxicating. Sherlock never spoke much, either too indulged with the results coming forth or John's new nickname. Didn't matter much, John didn't feel like talking anyway. He felt free.

John found himself back in the glass cage too soon after the tests. He rummaged around, pacing back and forth memorizing the contents in minutes to walk around with eyes closed confidently. He heard Sherlock explaining some findings to someone over the phone- nothing too big though. John could hear every bit of the conversation as he silently, blindly paced.

_"Get the personal facts."_

John stopped immediately.

"I don't see why they're relevant."

John could hear the strained sigh,_ "We need to know how this- thing got into the man. If so, we may be able to find the source."_

"What will you do if you find the source, then?" Sherlock asked, a cold edge to his voice as he replied.

_"Depends on if it's usable or not. We believe it was linked with the huge massacre of his unit. Question him, Sherlock. No if's and's or but's about it. Just do your job."_

The line went silent and Sherlock huffed in annoyance, "I am you lying arse. Governmental all over."

John chuckled, it seemed Sherlock had a political stance. He started his pacing again as if he had heard not a syllable. Sherlock entered the room, rather annoyed.

"You seem rather upset, Sherly." John said, opening his eyes.

"How can you possibly tell, John? " Sherlock snapped, making John raise a brow.

True, that was a given point there, but John could feel the tense air as Sherlock entered. He could tell by his breaths and heartbeat patterns exactly how he felt right now.

John chuckled, "Need I say more?"

"Shut up." Sherlock went over to a cabinet, turning a key in the lock, "Do you like scotch?"

"Scotch?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, grabbing a bottle of the amber liquid out and grabbing two cups as if John said yes, "the drink."

John rolled his eyes, "No need to get defensive. Besides, I'd take anything alcoholic right now."

Sherlock stopped mid stride, "You have an drinker in the family don't you? Probably a mother, father, brother or sister? More likely a brother..."

How could Sherlock know about Harry, "Surely you read that in my file didn't you?"

"No," Sherlock started pouring the scotch into the glasses, "I deduced it."

"Deduced?"

"Yes, I can see by the way your eyes dilated when I mentioned it. Like a memory trigger. I didn't read anything on your file about you having history as an alcoholic, besides they wouldn't have let you in the army as a doctor if you were. Family member it is, and a close one- so it's a sibling. I can also tell by the way you tense up at any mention of the past means you are avoiding it. Something bothersome about my drink of choice?"

John swallowed, "My sibling Harry, the drink was an escape..."

"Hmm, I wasn't expecting to get the brother bit right."

"Harry is short for Harriet."

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, "Stupid, stupid! Too many forsaken hours in this damned lab! Now I can't even get things right from blasted names! "

John snorted, "At least you can leave."

"You think that John," Sherlock put the glass of scotch into the box for transferring items and slid it to him, "but you aren't the only person stuck here."

"How so?"

"There is time for that later..." Sherlock took a sip of scotch down his throat before taking a deep breath.

As John grabbed the glass, swigging a small amount of it's memory-raising intoxicating contents down his throat with barely any burn, he thought of Harry. He always did when drinking. Sherlock was obviously playing a game. John wanting to call the hand he was dealing, "investment". Sherlock would put something in, John give something out. Like a switch and swap of personal information. He'd told Sherlock about Harry and her problems with the bottle, but that was nothing compared to what happened not so long ago that threw him in here. With the realization that he'd cracked open a little to Sherlock's hand, John felt himself closing down on memories and anything he could find as telling.

John felt like he was subconsciously growling, baring his teeth in fair warning to Sherlock to stay away from this type of subject. He'd bite if it came down to it.

"I assure you I'm no threat, John." Another drink.

"What?"

Sherlock smiled, "You tensed John, pupils narrowed, even snarled at me like a dog."

Well damn.

"I did? ..."

Another drink, "Indeed you did."

John found himself downing the rest of the glass in one gulp. Rich, a deep burn all the way down to his stomach. Perfect.

"Honestly John, I never figured you to drink a sip, let alone the full glass."

John placed it back in the box, sliding it to Sherlock, "Another. Just because my sister can't hold her drinks doesn't mean I can't do it when I can. Besides, I don't even know if I'm getting out of here or not. Probably going to be stuck inside this damn box for the rest of my life. Might as well indulge."

"Not a bad assumption," Sherlock said, pouring John another glass, "but a sad and gruesome one in fact."

John and Sherlock talked for a bit. John mainly inquired about outside, it was as if a war had started in John's mind somehow in the few hours he'd been locked away and he needed to know the status of the world. Sherlock told him, not holding back anything about what he asked. Such as "I'm probably stuck here aren't I?" and many more, hope-killing questions. In the end, Sherlock had two glasses of scotch, while John had seven.

"I'm surprised you aren't plastered." Sherlock said, putting the glasses in the sink and the empty container of scotch back into the cabinet- locking it.

"Why?"

John saw the smirk on Sherlock's mouth as he turned, "Two glasses is enough to get me slightly buzzed, but seven- for you? You should be knocked out cold."

John shrugged, "I've been known to hold my drinks."

"Doesn't matter. First glass should have you buzzed or even tipsy. It seems your body is able to process the alcohol at an alarming rate. Interesting."

"This was another test..." John held his face in his hands as he tried to calm himself in deep, deep breaths. Only smelling the lingering hint of the seven glasses of scotch.

Sherlock chuckled, "In fact, I wasn't planning on that at all. I was just doing it because that arse who works as the british government is expecting me to do the impossible."

"Impossible?" John remembered the conversation. It'd been about John, his past, and the source of his condition. It depended on if Sherlock was able to get John to open, or in fact, locate the origin of John's mutation. Which seemed more impossible?

Sherlock sat, back to the glass, "I hate my job. Sure, it's nice because I like science. I like microscopes and test tubes- but in truth, I belong here as much as you do."

John looked towards Sherlock, who had his head up against the glass and eyes closed, "Really?"

"Yes. I like mysteries, puzzles. Complex ones that stunt the normal, John. I enjoy a good challenge. Murder is also a favorite- not committing mind you, no... It's figuring out who and why that's so pleasing to me. Why would a man or woman, so ordinary in nature, created in the same ways as every other man and woman, be driven to commit such an ancient taboo. What could cause them to break, literally, and make them end another life without question? That's what I want to do, John... I want to be a consulting detective."

"Consulting detective? Never heard of it."

Sherlock chuckled, "Shouldn't have, it didn't exist until I invented it. Brilliant it is. So perfect in every way."

John smiled, "Why not just work for the police?"

"They're stupid when it comes to most things, John. They can't even handle parking tickets properly, what makes you think they can handle a murder and a corpse? No, they muck it up, tamper with the evidence, ruin a perfectly good puzzle to where it's completely unsolvable. No wonder so many go cold."

John laughed as Sherlock went on ranting about police and their sudden inability to complete their jobs. Sherlock had a strong distaste for them, as much everything else. John was beginning to doze off when Sherlock completed by saying a few curse words and good riddance. John leaned up, rubbing his eyes.

"Sherlock?" John yawned.

"Yes?"

John turned to look towards the man studying him. His eyes were a pale blue, a speckle of brown above his left iris. So strikingly cold and so brilliant. John found himself breathing more as if the air around him were constricting, "Y-You never told me why."

Sherlock arched a brow in confusion, "Why what?"

"Why you're stuck here too."

Silence.

John saw as many emotions passed behind Sherlock's eyes. His face remained still, but his eyes flashed. People say they are the windows to a person's soul, everything you need to know will be said by the eyes. John saw the hurt, saw the intelligence, saw for one second a damaged heart sealed off from others long ago. John saw himself, a person trapped within a cage never expecting to be freed.

"Another time John... Particularly when I'm not buzzed."

John chuckled, "I thought you said slightly?"

"Things change."

John watched as Sherlock left the lab, "Night, John."

"Night."

The lights went off, and John went over to his mattress. His first night. It seemed weird. The lab was daunting by itself, the white walls seeming to darken by shadows into a sinister black. Maybe it helped represent what John felt about this place. Appearances made it seem clean and proper, safe. In reality, it was nothing more than a messed up way to get things like what was in John now to benefit nothing more than a military project. Figures.

As John closed his eyes, he saw the pair of ice blue staring back. John really did admire that random speck of brown.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Kay guys! I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I plan to add another one soon, promise! Also, there's going to be smut eventually that's why I went ahead and rated this M.**

**It's doing really well so I plan to add the second chapter as a treat I guess. I don't know how long it's going to be but I aim to finish this soon. XD**

**Have fun and a nice day!~**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock slumped on his lab's couch. He should have gone home like the other doctors, but Sherlock needed to think- he always did. John was too risky to be left alone, even while asleep, without Sherlock at least on stand-by. He clicked open a browser on his computer, modifying a motion capture alert system to text him if anything vastly changed. Sherlock worked really well with his computers, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve just in case some things went wrong.

What was going wrong, currently? Maybe it was the fact that John wasn't as mutated as Sherlock preceded him to be. Sure, the signs were there, Sherlock just needed connections, proof. He picked his notes up, scanning them.

_Patient Name: DR. JOHN WATSON_

_Cause of Containment/Study: Blood cells appear to be inhuman, even though sample was directly taken from patient._

_Additions: Attack on unit (only survivor) may be connected. Not sure at current moment. Left shoulder currently wounded, in sling and healing._

_J was originally in a coma, not sure if medically induced, but woke up several hours after admittance to make-shift hospital base._

_J - blood was received about said time, doctors saw the cells. Called Mycroft... idiots._

_J arrives- said to be unconscious for at least an hour or more, awakes in a few minutes after given to me. Accelerated rates at processing sedatives evident._

_J seems to act very defensively towards me, as if an animal trapped in a corner. He's in a box so I'll give him that. Holding himself together well, surprisingly._

_Eyes seem to change hue if I stare too long, not sure if lighting or just me._

_God, someone left me fish and chips... how annoying._

_J says the lighting bothers him. Too bright. I dimmed them down to where I can barely see without turning any lamps in my lab on.. He seemed better afterwards._

_Heightened senses. Where is this leading to?_

_A R SE_

_Heightened senses indeed! Can even tell what letters I'm writing!_

_Need to see bodies physical reactions to functions such as running._

Sherlock stopped reading, for him, this is where the notes lost their flare. Sure, the rest was about how John's body seemed to handle the physical perfectly, with little strain, but Sherlock was too busy for that. No, he needed to know about John's biology. Mycroft wanted the personal facts. The fact he wanted to locate the source of whatever John contracted made Sherlock question his motives. His brother was a government man, not a scientist. He didn't respect how things were in nature like Sherlock did, rather he wanted to control them. Manipulate them into creating abominations not in the name of science, but war and politics. So military.

If Mycroft were to actually find the source- he'd search relentlessly no doubt and was probably trying now, Sherlock knew that something bad was going to come out of it. It was obvious whatever John had was transmittable to Sherlock. It carried all the necessary signs. No physical abnormalities to the naked eye, only present in so far in blood, raised physical abilities as if to catch prey and transmit it. However frightening most people thought it might be, Sherlock found it to be intriguing. Mycroft, however, more than likely saw it as a door to a super soldier. One that could supply the Queen and her parliament endless amounts of victory and unrestricted praise and fear from the world. A weapon.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Always with Mycroft.

"Such an arse..." Sherlock mumbled, throwing his notes on his desk. If anyone deserved to be in a cage, it be Sherlock's brother for no doubt. Powerless, no politics to ease his way from his glass box.

In fact, Sherlock pitied John. Something Sherlock didn't feel much here. In fact, not many doctors and workers here did. They realized they had a job and did it- however they were supposed to. Even if it meant Anderson worked on making animals furs a different color than inherited, or Sally from trying to sneak off with him to have a little fun in the linen closet. However impractical, that was all Sally was useful for. Even then she sucked in Sherlock's mind.

John however, was different. He was a _human_. He wasn't some kitten that Sherlock had tried to give purple eyes to, or some bird that Sherlock gave a neon green beak and pink feathers- all of that, was for entertainment. Harmless, yet colorful. John though, wasn't like them. He had a voice, opinions, was just like Sherlock before whatever happened to him. Those animals had been bred for their purpose here, John, was just unlucky.

This bothered Sherlock. If something so normal as John could be corrupted enough to get put in here, what else could happen? More people, children no less? Mycroft probably wouldn't bat an eyelid or expression as he threw them in here for testing. He did the same with John, in fact called him a present while assigning Sherlock to it.

It was extremely bothersome indeed, for Sherlock to start thinking who the real mutant was.

_John_, or his _elder brother_.

* * *

The moon hung over John's head. He was in the desert again, the night wrapping it's cold talons around his wounded body just like they had before. He couldn't move, he could only stare at the ever darkening sky. The stars seemed to blot out, the moon overtaking them as it seemed to race towards John.

Closer and closer it got, until John could feel the very pull in his veins. So primal and feral the burning ache was.

John shot up, body covered in sweat and his one free hand shaking. What kind of nightmare was that? To be controlled or consumed by the moon?

"Glad to know that's over for you."

"Sherlock?" John said, practically gasping.

Sherlock didn't turn on the lights, just walked towards John and gave him water through the transfer box, "You were having a nightmare. Saw it on the cameras."

John took the cup, gulping down it's cooling contents before returning his gaze towards Sherlock once more, "I'm sorry to have woken you..."

"It's fine," Sherlock shrugged, "I don't sleep much anyways."

"You don't?"

Sherlock shook his head, "Afraid it messes with up here," Sherlock pointed to his head, "along with eating and other tedious things."

"Tedious?"

Sherlock nodded, "Most human needs are to me. This body, nothing but transport. Doesn't matter to me, just what I can get out of it."

"Sounds like you have a high love for your health."

"I take care of it when needed, I just avoid it until necessary."

John stared at Sherlock for a moment. How this man became a doctor, let alone given to him under his care, was beyond John. If Sherlock didn't care about himself, what would become of John? He'd more than likely waste away here in the glass cell faster than meant to. Maybe it be a favor, not a healthy or safe one, but a favor- in a way.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to let you starve or anything... I told you, I'm not cruel."

John found himself glaring at Sherlock, "Doesn't mean everyone else isn't."

"Valid point." Sherlock turned, "I've been wondering about several people lately."

"Says the man who works in genetically altering animals and nature for the government."

Sherlock stopped, and turned, "I'm not here for that. I was forced here just like you. I didn't start out wanting bunnies named Bluebell to glow. No, I told you what I wanted."

John took a small, ever so small, step back, best still held his ground, "Consulting detective, how modest."

"I'm sorry, helping solve _murders_ isn't very helpful is it?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Sherlock chuckled sarcastically, "Sure."

John narrowed his gaze towards the man, "Besides, what do you know about being trapped? I'm here in this fucking thing while you can roam around and be free. I don't give a damn if you were forced into this. I was too, more so than you."

Sherlock glared at John, his breathing steady and deep. His cold fixation on the constricting pupils of John's eyes. They stayed that way for was what felt like an hour, John giving up when he saw Sherlock not even moving and finding the argument proceeding pointless. He was exhausted. He could sense the satisfaction as John went to his mattress and settled down. Sherlock walked away, leaving John in the room alone. He took a deep breath, and let sleep take him again.

When John awoke, the lights were on in the lab and there was shuffling from all around. As John sat up, he saw Sherlock walking out from his lab, mug in hand and taking a sip as he went over to a cart.

"What's going on now?"

Sherlock turned his head, "I'm going to need some blood samples. Along with saliva and a few hairs. I hope you don't mind cooperating with me."

John shrugged, "Here."

John pulled a few of his hairs and set them in the box, waiting for Sherlock to come and do the exchange. In a few minutes, Sherlock had a swab from John's mouth, and a syringe filled with John's blood.

"Thank you."

"Welcome." John smiled, setting himself back onto the mattress to think more. What else was there for him to do?

John could smell the cleaners on the floors and walls, the dried paint, and the smell of- what was_ that?_ It smelled of trees, a mixture of pine and deciduous leaves and musk, forest. John found his eyes widening, and could even feel as the dilated to nearly full blown. He got up, trying to find the source of the gorgeous scent. Something more now, a small tang of honey and wildflower. Dirt and water. It smelled heavenly. John took lungs full of it, soaking it into his body and memory.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, looking out of his lab's doorway.

John kept searching, "I smell something- something I just- can you smell it? Smells like trees or something?"

John heard Sherlock sniff, "Nothing in here smells like outside... You like lemon cleaners?"

"No! That's not it- it's..." John started to pinpoint it, his eyes followed where his nose led him, straight into Sherlock's confused gaze.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

"What is it?"

John held his breath, "I uh- ignore me... It's nothing."

John waited until Sherlock rolled his eyes and returned to examine the samples he'd just received. Before John knew it, he was taking lungs worth of that smell in again. John never considered himself homosexual, or bisexual but on rare occasions. Sherlock was obviously that special occasion as John felt his body reacting merely to the man's scent.

"Shower's open if you need it!" Sherlock called out.

"Thanks!" John slowly made his way towards the small, closed off space.

When the hot water hit John's back, it was heaven sent. His aching muscles in his shoulder easing a little to the heat. John studied it, seeing that it'd healed quicker than he was expecting it to. Maybe the fact he was in such a clean area that his body could focus on fixing the damage. His mind eased as the water ran over his body, taking the traces of Afghanistan with it.

He sighed, leaning his face into the the blessed stream of water. The soap provided smelt plain, bland. Overall a boring scent. John found himself missing that smell from earlier a little. It called out to John, a part of him he never knew existed- one that wanted to just find the nearest forest and sprint. John thought of trees and their dense underbrush. Blurring by as he maneuvered his way through. Next thing he knew, his mind was on the moon, and John began to feel it's pull. It started as a burn, then John realized with utter horror that is was beginning to grow into an inferno. His bones pulled, his muscles reformed. John's mind sort of left his body in the pain, and only until it was over did he realize with looking downwards what mistake he had just made.

* * *

Sherlock watched as the blood of John Watson spread as he pressed to two slides together. John was currently taking a shower right now, so Sherlock had time. He placed the sample underneath the microscope and examined.

He'd seen why the doctors freaked. The blood cells that Sherlock saw wasn't human- but strongly resembled something Sherlock had seen before. He opened a browser on his computer, looking at images of blood cells that looked familiar. Finally, out stood Sherlock's answer. The cells in the microscopic photo matched the ones from John's blood exactly.

The answer was a shock.

_Canis Lupis._

* * *

John staggered around a bit. He wasn't used to his body yet, no. He realized that maybe what he'd seen in the desert wasn't so much of a mind trick- but a horrific truth to something John thought to be a fairy tale.

He realized that now for sure he was going to be locked up forever, a _werewolf? _He wouldn't even be able to look out of the lab.

Wait, werewolves were only supposed to change around the full moon, right? So that must make him some type of genetic _shapeshifter_ or-

"John!" Sherlock called out.

John froze, he couldn't answer. No, not like this. It come out as nothing but dog. John waited for what was inevitable.

"John?" Sherlock pressed the button for John to exit it the shower, as the door opened. Steam came out even before John moved a muscle.

It was so hard not to whimper or whine as John tried his hardest to not obey.

Next things John knew, the shower's water turned off and his screen of cover was going to literally evaporate into thin air. John looked around, no way out or place to hide. Perfect.

"Holy-!" Sherlock yelled, dropping his clipboard onto the floor with a clatter, "This is-..."

_Impossible. Not meant to happen. Somewhat ironic to say barking mad._

Sherlock ran up to the glass, staring down in disbelief as John padded forward. He made a whine-like noise to agree. He sat down, and started to lick his soaked fur without thinking. Sherlock just watched silently.

"I can't let them get a hold of this," Sherlock said, rushing into his lab, "they'll ruin so much."

John tilted his head, giving Sherlock a short questionable yip.

Sherlock came rushing back in, "We won't have much time, John. They're coming to collect you and do god know's what."

John's ears flattened against his head, he whimpered. Fear began to grow in his stomach as Sherlock started rushing to gather things together.

"I know, but more than likely _Mycroft_ is on his way down here, I won't let them take you, okay? I promise."

Sherlock held his hand to the glass, his eyes clouded with tension as John placed his paw against the glass back in understanding. John saw his blood sample tucked tightly against Sherlock's chest.

He should have declined.

"I'll take care of it."

As soon as Sherlock finished his sentence, men came rushing into the room. Armed men, all in black armor that looked similar to anti-chemical suits. They all were on guard, watching John as if there were no barrier. He found himself growling, slowly pushing himself against the glass of the shower. Teeth bared.

"Nice to see you, Mycroft."

A man came walking in, using an umbrella like a cane. His face was stone as he approached Sherlock with a fake smile.

"Hello brother."

Brother?

_Things just got interesting..._

"You promised this would be mine and mine alone." Sherlock spat coldly.

Mycroft's fake smile grew a little, "Things change. Looks like Mr. Watson has here too."

Sherlock shook his head, "Doesn't matter, you're not taking him."

"Grown sentimental, have we?" Mycroft did a motion of tsk tsk, "Not in your style brother."

"I don't care. I know what you're going to do if you take him."

Mycroft raised a brow, "Do you now?"

Sherlock took a second to glance back at John, still huddling to the glass for his life, "You're going to experiment. Now you know that it can do this to a regular human body, you'll try to harvest it and transplant it. Super soldiers. In the end, you'll wind up killing him."

"How do you know that? Besides, we'll treat Mister Watson here like a royal. No harm done."

"Not yet."

John pressed himself even further to the glass, muscles tensed and eyes darting. If what Sherlock said were true, John's days were limited. More so than before.

The men were still watching John closely, guns at their sides ready. If John were even to get loose, human or wolf wise, he'd be shot on the spot. About this moment he wished he died on that damn sand alongside his unit. He thought dying before was worse- but now faced with the fact he was going to be treated like a fucking cure to a weapon's problem, he realized his dead comrades were lucky.

"I'm not letting you take him."

Mycroft shook his head, "Look, I let you work on this by yourself before we saw this coming. He's government property, not yours. Hand over the vile, Sherlock."

Sherlock shook his head, "No."

"Sherlock..." Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground, "I have no patience with you today. Hand over the vile. We're taking John away and that's that. Now, give it."

John saw Sherlock tense. For a second, John realized he wasn't the only one trapped. Sherlock was right all along. He saw how Sherlock kept fighting to get the right thing to win, only for his brother to stomp it out with politics and mere force. John now understood Sherlock's hate for government.

* * *

Sherlock looked towards the syringe of John's blood and sighed. This reasoning with his obtuse brother was a dead end. When Sherlock was faced with one, he'd find a new route. He saw the crimson liquid collected within, something once so ordinary now fought over like the last piece of food for a race. Sherlock looked towards John. His sandy blond figure was still pressed up into the glass, deep blue eyes watching him. They screamed fear and Sherlock knew John would die if he didn't do anything.

Maybe they _both_ did.

"Last time Sherlock," Sherlock didn't lift his gaze from the item in his hand, "hand it over!"

"No."

Sherlock grabbed the syringe and shoved it into his forearm, he bit back the pain and slowly raised his gaze to his brother. As soon as he met the constricted irises, he started to inject John's blood into him. He watched as the men started to prepare themselves for Sherlock to try and attack, guns now raised towards him. It wasn't the first time he was at the end of a barrel, and certainly it wouldn't be the last.

"W-What have you done?" Mycroft's voice was hoarse, rare considering it was usually monotone and annoying.

Sherlock threw the empty syringe on the floor, shattering the glass and sending them back, "Doing what's right. Try and pick it up and you may get cut. Could be traces."

"You're completely mad!"

"No," Sherlock said, looking back to John, "I'm just_ human_."

Sherlock saw the pain in John's eyes, he slowly got out of his corner and made his way to the glass where Sherlock stood. He whimpered, pawing at it. The room was silent as Sherlock placed his hand back on the glass again, and he turned his gaze towards his brother.

He waited a moment, seeing the emotions fly through his facial muscles, "John is a human being, not a test subject for your little puppet games. He's no military weapon or incentive. You treat him as if he's nothing but dirt. You treat everything here as such. I don't give a damn about this lab, I don't give a damn what's going to happen to my blood now- all I know, is that if this man has more of a heart than you do- maybe he's not a mutant after all."

Mycroft took a deep breath, "Tranq him."

Sherlock felt the dart hit him in his arm before he could react.

"Tranq him too."

He could hear John's whimpers grow into growls as the edges of his vision darkened and consumed him whole.

* * *

John awoke to a strong ache in his head. His first thought was if he died. He found himself still in his wolf form, so he bit down on his front leg to substitute as a pinch. It did nothing but make his arm hurt. John decided he was in fact living, and looked up, trying to figure out where he was.

It was just like before, except the room was bigger now. Still see-through and imprisoning. John stood up, his body aching. The last he remember before the sedatives wore off was Sherlock falling to the floor and the dart hitting his arm.

_Sherlock._

John found him lying on the floor on his side, his clothes from before switched to the ones John had before- the lab basic. John listened closely for a heartbeat, it faintly fluttering around Sherlock's chest. John sighed with relief.

"I understand what you mean now."

John tilted his head, barking an inquisitive yip.

"The senses. This headache is atrocious."

John walked forward and nuzzled Sherlock's neck, asking _"are you okay?"_.

Sherlock nodded, eyes closed, "I'm fine. I can hear the worry in your breaths, stop that. No need to get all upset over me."

John laid down beside Sherlock's back, placing his head on his paws as he sighed. This room wasn't much different than the one before, white and plain. It still smelled of the same cleaners. In fact, John could smell the exotic scent from before and found that he was relaxing.

"What's that smell?" Sherlock asked, "It wasn't here before. Not the tree scent you were telling me about before- in fact I can't smell it. "

John tried his best to do an imitation of a shrug.

"It's so- interesting."

John took another deep breath, nothing but his favorite mix of the forest scent and lemon bleach. He realized Sherlock was sniffing the air, and he turned towards John, pupils blown.

"I have no idea what it is, but when I find it, I'm going to memorize every part of it."

Sherlock got up, walking around the room, beginning to mumble to himself, "Smells like tea, sweet tea, and milk with a drop of sugar water... Hmm, a small tad of honey and vanilla extract. Is that pear or peaches? And strawberry! Smells like a delicious fruit stand of tea!"

John just watched, whatever Sherlock was describing was not in the air. He sniffed again, and nothing. While Sherlock kept trying to catalog whatever smell was tickling his fancy, John tried to focus on the task at hand. How in the hell was he supposed to turn into a human?

He remembered that it had happened in the shower, the thought of the moon filling his mind. He need to counter it- something opposite but still as powerful to change John back... The fact hit him and a light bulb went off. Of course! The sun!

John focused, bringing his mind only onto the sphere he hadn't seen in what felt like forever. He missed it's heat, the warm glow of it. Next thing John knew he was sitting in the floor with Sherlock still wrapped up in the scent.

Running over to the bed, John grabbed the clothing left for him and threw it on. When he turned, Sherlock was staring, "What?"

"Nothing just uhm... thinking."

"You have a lot of time for that."

Sherlock nodded, "Do you mind if I ask some questions?"

John shook his head, "Not at all, shoot."

"What was the scent you were talking about earlier?"

John blinked, "What?"

"The scent," Sherlock looked away for a second, "describe it to me."

"Well it-" John took a deep breath, noting the small differences, "it was like a forest, a mixture of pine and other trees. I could smell the dirt and such. It's changed now... It seems like it has kind of musky tang to it like rock and wine. Why wine?"

Sherlock nodded as if to confirm his own thought, "I have no idea why we both can't smell the same thing- do you?"

John shook his head, "Not a clue."

"Well, while we're at it- what's it like to.. you know-"

"Change?"

Sherlock nodded, "I was wondering.. Considering you know."

"Of course." John rubbed the back of his neck, "It's painful, but you kinda zone out while it's happening. I can't truly recall what went on."

"How did you do it?"

John shrugged, "I thought of the moon.. it makes me upset and remember things I don't want to."

Sherlock started to pace again, "So it's triggered by an emotional response, or a negative memory. How did you change back?"

"I thought of the sun. I miss it."

John watched as Sherlock continued pacing, thinking to himself. John took a deep breath, and laid down on his mattress. Whatever John had, Sherlock had too. That was obvious. The fact was, why would Sherlock willingly inject himself with John's blood? This didn't add up to John- in fact it screamed aloud it's unbalance.

A man walked through the double doors of the lab smirking. As soon as John saw him, he felt that if he was still in wolf form his fur would have bristled. John could hear Sherlock stop pacing, a low rumble growing in his chest.

"Good to see you're awake pets!" John felt his shoulders tense as the man playfully tapped on the glass, "Having fun in there?"

"Did someone tell you if you played with a bull you'd get the horns?" John looked towards the doctor with a gaze that didn't hide his thoughts of the man.

He only laughed, "Touchy are we, now?"

Sherlock stepped forward, "What do you possibly want?"

"Samples obviously. All the ones you had previously you purposefully destroyed. Tell me, how does it feel to be on the other side of an experiment?"

Sherlock narrowed his glare, "You say that now. Just wait till later."

"Can't, sorry! I'm afraid I have to take John with me! We're going to let whatever in you incubate before we sample. Let it- _mix._" He gave a dark smile.

"You aren't taking John." Sherlock growled, John found Sherlock stepping towards him.

The doctor smiled, "Afraid we are. What, care about him do you?" He took a breath, and rolled his eyes a little, "I won't be surprised if you two wind up killing each other in there."

John saw the men from before coming in, guns raised. It seemed if they were going to literally shoot John to get the samples. Before John could move, he was grabbed by Sherlock and taken into the corner of the room farthest from them. The growl registered in John's ears before the wolf did.

"Oh! Seems like we hit a soft spot! I'll make sure you get some extra dog treats tonight, mutt."

The men inched forwards, and Sherlock lowered himself, ears flattening against the sides of his head as he let out a snarl. John could see it in his head, the bullets leaving the barrels and hitting Sherlock- killing him. He couldn't let that happen, no, not after Sherlock sacrificed his freedom and life by injecting _John's_ blood into his arm. Oddly heroic as it might seem.

"I'll give samples willingly, okay?!" John shouted.

Everyone stilled.

Sherlock turned his head towards John, ears raising. His coat was curly like the ends of his dark hair. His_ eyes_. They remained the same, the small spot of brown John admired still within the pigmentation. They seemed to soften, question his motives as why he was willing. A small voice in his head saying, "don't do it". John watched as the men lowered their guns just a little.

"If you dare try to do anything- I'll be having them mop your blood off the floor before you can think about doing it."

Sherlock whipped his head around, growling, teeth bared.

John got up and whispered to Sherlock, "I'll be fine, okay. Just relax. I don't think they're making me leave."

_Yet._

John could hear the few whines from behind him as he walked forwards. He did the same for them as Sherlock, the swap of items through the box. Done in a matter of minutes. Sherlock was watching John closely the whole time as he gave the arrogant doctor his damned samples.

After they left, John returned his attention towards Sherlock, "Was that necessary?"

Sherlock nodded, and barked.

"You're happy now aren't you?"

Another nod and a yip.

John laughed, "Good to hear it... So, feel good to finally change?"

Sherlock tilted his head and made a small sound.

John rubbed his forehead, the encounter with that stupid doctor and the past few days seemed to drain him. He started to lay down when he heard a whine from in front of him.

"What?"

Sherlock raised a paw a pointed from John, to himself several times. He snorted in frustration after a few attempts.

"Want me to... change?"

Sherlock nodded.

What could be so bad? Besides, in wolf form the people seemed to avoid nearing him- and with the worsening headache that was beginning to foster itself, it would be a blessing. John thought of the moon, and opened his eyes to Sherlock sniffing his face- well, snout.

_"You smell like you're sick."_ Sherlock said, sniffing John more.

_"I do feel a rather heavy headache coming on..."_

Sherlock leaned back,_ "What do you need? "_

John thought for a moment through the growing pain,_ "Sleep I think..."_

Sherlock nodded, leading John towards the corner from earlier,_ "If you aren't feeling well it would be best if I stay in my form so they don't come back. Sleep here. You probably don't like laying down on wolf hairs much."_

The ache in John's head subsided as he curled up on the floor, he sighed a little at the relief. As he started to doze off, he felt Sherlock curl up beside him. John didn't care much, in fact, he was freezing. He was probably shivering to Sherlock. He only kept his eyes closed as nuzzled his body into the comfortable heat. The pain seemed to dull more. Sherlock yawned, and they both began to drift off.


	3. Chapter 3

****Authors Note:**

**OMFG COMIC-CON RIGHT NOW. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY FEELS? **

**I JUST- I CAN'T. WHAT. WHUT? ****_WHAT? _****_WHUT THE FUCKING WHAT._**

**Guys, I swear that this show is going to be the death of me. Don't be surprised if the reason I never do anything is because the show fucking murdered me and my feelings- wait, the feelings are already dead. I'm just hoping Johnlock won't be- like, PRAYING.**

**...**

**Either way, I added another chapter as you can tell. Not sure if it's just as long- but either way it's finished. -EFFORT WAS APPLIED FOR ONCE, JK-**

**Next chapter (I believe 4) is almost done and shall be put on here once completed. **

**Thanks for reading!~ Enjoy~**

* * *

Sherlock awoke to several things. One, the ball of fire- known as _John_- beside him was making him completely overheat. Second, John had a fever it seemed, and his breathing was short and shallow. In Sherlock's mind, it radiated sick, but there was something- unexpected. The third thing, the smell from before came back. It was intensified and more appealing- as if it couldn't have gotten any better- and it was pouring off of John.

The burning urge to just take John was making Sherlock's body twitch. He saw John writhe in his sleep, rolling all over and spreading that scent- oh that lovely scent, all over. Sherlock just wanted to roll in it, amongst other things he never thought he'd want to do.

Sherlock swallowed hard as he tried to remain still as John awoke.

* * *

The burn, the fucking burn! And the cramps!

If John ever had a fever or sickness compared to this, than he was lucky he didn't fucking melt.

His head was pounding, and his stomach felt like it was imploding. He whined as another cramp hit. Sherlock sniffed John, and he guessed that he was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong. John whined in discomfort as Sherlock neared his stomach.

"_I know, I know... What's wrong?_ " Sherlock looked back, licking his nose.

John closed his eyes, _"I have no idea, everything just hurts..._ "

"_What can I do to help?_ "

The question made John think. He had felt better when Sherlock was next to him, and he had no idea why. The scent was still strongly around John and he was silently grateful because he felt like dying. His muscles ached, his head felt like a beating drum, and the heat was uncomfortable and sickening. He thought for a moment.

_"I would like some water... Maybe after that you could see if I can cool down in any way. This is unbearable_. "

John watched as Sherlock went over to the sink and twisted the faucet on with his mouth. He grabbed a cup nearby and did his best to fill it. Soon, he trotted over to John and poured the water on the floor. John licked it up greedily.

"_More._ "

John found himself sending Sherlock to fetch watch back and forth constantly. He soon felt like a nuisance seeing how Sherlock didn't complain and even mutter a syllable of annoyance. John just wound up walking over to the sink and drinking till he was satisfied. Sherlock sat by the whole time and followed John when he went back over to the corner.

Sherlock tilted his head, "_Any better?_ "

"_Yea, a little... My head is pounding..._ " John curled up on the floor, closing his strained eyes.

Soon, he found Sherlock was curling up beside him again. The warm body pressed up against his eased a little of the ache all over. He whined a little when Sherlock re-positioned himself a little farther away, making him just move right back. John sighed, letting Sherlock's heat and smell relax the tension he felt. Soon, Sherlock's head was resting on John's left shoulder- the one that had started all of this. It felt ironically soothing.

"I'm back pets!" The doctor practically was skipping. John hated him. Hated his smoothed black hair, his eyes that seemed to only be colored black. He reminded John of death.

Sherlock raised his head a little, growing. A warning to the doctor to back off of else.

John's head ached a little, and his stomach cramps made a mild reappearance- earning a whine.

"Seems like Johnny boy's a little worse for wear! Think we can run some tests, Sherlock?"

The wolf beside John let out a loud snarl, and John felt his heart quicken. No, tests were what he needed least right now.

The doctor shook his head, "Such a bad dog! I'll see to it you get a little reminder of who's your master... Which reminds me! I didn't introduce myself! I'm Moriarty."

Sherlock's growl rumbled his body as Moriarty gave a dark, sinister grin.

"See, here's what's going to happen. Sherlock, you're going to let me take samples from you now that the blood has obviously run full course. John will stay, and maybe even get medication if you come along quietly. Promise not a finger or thing will touch him."

John stared at Sherlock as he flattened his ears even further. John whined, knowing that if Sherlock left the only available aid to whatever he was going through would be gone. Sherlock looked towards John, and gave a small yip. Before John could tell Sherlock to stay, he felt the body leave him, taking the heat and comforting smell with him. The whole time sounds of discomfort left John, as if every inch Sherlock gained away from him added to his pain. Which it did.

"Good little dog!"

Sherlock walked up to the glass, turning one last time before leaving to look at John, "_I promised you they wouldn't do anything to you. Just try and relax until I'm back, okay?_ "

John nodded as he tried to hold himself back.

"I will open the door and you will walk into the cage in the next room, alright? One move in the wrong direction, one piece of fur in the wrong place- and I will have you or Johnny shot on the spot. I told you, behave well."

Sherlock slowly but willingly did as Moriarty said, as John watched with disgust for the doctor. It was obvious this man was insane. He craved nothing more than control and manipulation. John wouldn't be surprised to find Moriarty backing out on his word and killing Sherlock for fun. John whined, feeling a burst of fear rush through his veins. Sherlock was the only thing he had anymore.

After John's bite in Afghanistan, it seemed like no one even cared for him. The doctors sent him away like hazardous material, too scared to even realize he was still a fucking human being. Well- what was John anymore? What was human? Most of the people John saw were nothing but husks of skin walking around claiming to be something they weren't. They should be in this damned glass prison- not Sherlock and John. Especially Sherlock, the one being John thought to actually be normal throughout his whole hellish version of a standard school week.

What a joy this was turning out to be.

* * *

Moriarty meant it when he'd said he'd get Sherlock back from earlier. After taking the hair, blood, and other fluid samples from Sherlock's tied up form- for Moriarty's protection- he found the doctor's dark grin to greet him. In his hand, was several things. First, was a needle that likely had drugs or something else in it, and second was a whip that looked like it could cut Sherlock from looking it at.

"It's all I could find in a short notice. But it'll suffice." Moriarty walked closer, "Normally I don't do this to my experiments- but then this isn't normal is it?"

Sherlock snorted.

Moriarty ignored him, "Just wait, in a few minutes you'll return to your mate- maybe not in the best of conditions- but relatively alive. If you behave, then I'll give Johnny the pain relievers and medicine he obviously needs right now."

_Mate?_

Moriarty had said mate, but why? John wasn't his mate- they never did anything to classify them as such. Surely, the facts right there should of stopped Moriarty from labeling John as such. What made him do so? Maybe he was intending to exploit Sherlock's protective nature over John by doing so. Sure, Sherlock had basically given the man his life and has been covering for him since- but that was because Sherlock knew it was right to do so. John was innocent, a man plagued by an unfortunate fate and placed in a base in Baskerville to be tested. It was wrong for Mycroft and Moriarty to treat him as nothing more than a undiscovered aid to power. In just thinking of either of them touching a single hair on John, made a small and low growl rise up in Sherlock's chest.

Maybe he was a little protective, but he just-_ naturally_ felt it.

"Wondering why I say mate? You know of the systems feral wolves have, don't you?"

Sherlock didn't respond, only eyeing the madman before him coldly.

Moriarty chuckled, "They have dynamics. In a way a sort of classification system. Several types of wolves to be found. We have no idea how they imply to you and your lovely little John, but they do."

The look in Sherlock's eyes for a moment must of asked, "_how so?_ " because Moriarty just sighed.

"Alphas, betas, omegas. We believe that the two of you are either alpha and omega. Surely you understand that relationship."

Sherlock just yipped.

"And you call yourself a scientist..." Moriarty rubbed his temple, "It's simple really. Betas are practically normal, just fillers as I like to call them. No necessary purpose for other than being present. Alphas and omegas however, their relationship is when and where it gets fun."

Moriarty gave his sinister smile before continuing, "Alphas are the leaders mainly. They rule over betas and run them into the ground if they want to. They're powerful, protective, even a bit possessive when it gets down to it. Mainly over omegas. See, here's where it gets interesting for you and John."

Sherlock felt the snap of the whip against his side, it was in fact, sharp enough to cut. Sherlock held back his growl, for John's sake.

"We think the two of you are alpha and omega. Don't believe me? Here's some things for your brain to wrap around..." Moriarty whipped Sherlock again, "Before you turned, you wrote down John was attracted to some scent- one you couldn't detect. Trees, was it? Afterwards, he transformed. We believe that scent enticed it a little . Then, after your little- _act_, with the syringe, you say you smelled something as well. Something completely different from what John described. You do the rest."

Sherlock started connecting the dots. Moriarty had a point to the scents. Before the whole ordeal Sherlock was in now, he indeed pinpointed the smell to be John. It was alluring, arousing in fact. Moriarty had also said the scent before made John react- so that meant one thing, it was Sherlock's scent he couldn't identify. The other facts started to pile up, the protectiveness, the physical need for contact between both parties. John had been using Sherlock's scent and body to comfort him through whatever his body was doing. That really left one question, what was going on in John's body?"

"If you're wondering about John's little predicament, we think it's his technical 'gender' asserting itself. I have a theory you're the alpha, and John's the omega. Oh, and a little fact I forgot about omegas, they really do enjoy a nice little fuck every now and then." The smile and giggle Sherlock got unnerved him.

The next few hours were nothing but the whip hissing against Sherlock's form. Every swipe went through his fur and cut his skin. Soon in, Sherlock could feel his bones through the pain of his muscles. He stayed silent, knowing that if he utter one sound Moriarty would surely punish John worse than this. Anger boiled through Sherlock's pain, building up till Sherlock didn't know how to hold himself back. Thankfully, that's when Moriarty ended his cruel whip spree.

If Mycroft didn't do anything to Moriarty for almost beating Sherlock to death and threatening to even lay a hand on John, he would surely rip out his brother's throat himself.

"I'm done here..." Moriarty dropped the bloodied whip, bits of Sherlock's fur clung on to the crimson lining it, "I'm sensing John and his body are missing you. Just a reminder as well, when his first heat hits, we'll be watching very closely."

Heats? What was Moriarty on about? For the first time in Sherlock's life, he was in too much pain to continue thinking. He whined as men in suits undid the restraints, Sherlock's legs immediately giving out and making the wolf slump to the floor. He couldn't stop the noises from pain as they put him on a slab with wheels, Moriarty slipping a small bag in Sherlock's open mouth.

"For behaving." His snickered darkly as Sherlock was wheeled away.

Sherlock could hear John's whimpers from the room when he saw Sherlock's form lying still on the slab. In a sudden bout of fear, he realized that John probably thought he was dead. He slowly raised his head, muscles hissing with the effort as he looked solemnly towards John. He was still in the corner, ears flattened to his skull in concern and whines leaving in worry.

"_I'm fine._ " Sherlock whimpered.

"_I'll believe that when you can fucking walk..._ " The strain in John's response made a rock settle in Sherlock's stomach. His teeth clenched the bag tighter as he was slid off the slab and into the glass cage, door shutting immediately.

John was over to his side immediately, sniffing and whining as he saw the blood matting and drying in Sherlock's coat. The blue eyes met with Sherlock's, emotions flowing through them before noticing the bag in Sherlock's mouth.

"_You didn't have to do this..._ " John said, licking Sherlock's wounds a little.

Sherlock snorted, ribs moving through the ache, "_I got some medicine for you, and some information as well._ "

John stopped licking for a moment, "_Dammit Sherlock, that can wait till later. I'm sorry. I should of gone instead of you... Now you're hurt and I'm fine._ "

"_NO._ " Sherlock said immediately, sitting up in protest, "_If you'd gone, you'd more than likely be dead. I promised you I wouldn't let them touch you and I aim to keep it that way._ "

John saw arguing with Sherlock wouldn't get anywhere, because he didn't push it any further. Instead, he helped Sherlock limp back to their corner, licking his wounds and and growling a little when he found more. Moriarty was right, he could smell the change in John. Before, he smelled like just lab cleaners. Now, John smelled open, like a slot Sherlock could fill. The scent went deep into his body as he took a lengthened breath. It was sweeter, more pulling than before. Sherlock found himself leaning into John's tongue as it lapped at the cuts. It sent shivers down Sherlock's spine, easing the leftover burn of Moriarty's whip.

John must have decided that was enough because he curled up against Sherlock, his slightly smaller frame sliding easily into Sherlock's bulkier one. A slight hum of satisfaction escaped Sherlock's chest before he could stop it. If John heard, he chose to ignore it as he snuggled closer.

"_John?_ "

The wolf beside him didn't lift his head, "_Yes, Sherlock? _"

"_What about the stuff I got for you?_ "

John lifted his head, looking towards the bag on the floor, he ripped it open, noticing there were only two pills of one variety. He looked towards Sherlock, eyes narrowing.

"_We're going to have to share. Here._ "

John grabbed one end of a pill and looked towards Sherlock. He watched as slowly, Sherlock leaned in, their snouts almost touching when Sherlock's teeth made contact with the pill. He saw the muscles in John's jaw bite down, so Sherlock did the same. In the end, he got half of the pill in his mouth while John had the other. He gave Sherlock a wolfy grin and smiled.

They did the same with the other pill, the ghosting contact on Sherlock's snout made his fur stand on end and his face tingle with soft electric shocks. John swallowed the other half of the last pill, and walked over to Sherlock, rubbing up against him under his head and hummed.

Sherlock swallowed, John's head rubbing against his throat and jaw line. Next thing Sherlock knew he was rubbing him back, scenting. Sherlock could smell the stronger aura off of John, more of the sweet and arousing. John stood up, rubbing even more on Sherlock more like a cat than anything. As John went to the corner, Sherlock eagerly followed. The scent was beginning to make heat pool lower in Sherlock's body.

John laid on the ground, belly facing upwards. He didn't know that he was presenting himself to Sherlock, twisting on the ground. Begging for his touch. Sherlock could feel his eyes widen with arousal as John whined, rolling over looking at him. Sherlock walked forwards, sniffing eagerly with his nose rubbing John's neck. The smell was overwhelming to Sherlock, and he began to lick as if it were some sort of divine food just for him to consume.

John whimpered below, straining into Sherlock's tongue and even laying his head back for Sherlock to have more room. A possessive growl left Sherlock's chest as he positioned himself standing over John, his licks become rougher as even more glorious scent poured off of the wonderful- oh so wonderful John below. He found himself holding back from biting the searing skin below as John's throat vibrated with another, pleading whine.

"Sorry to interrupt!" Sherlock lifted his head, the whimpering below him stopping a few seconds after.

Both wolves locked eyes with Moriarty waving at the glass box.

"I have to say, you two are getting rather involved! But- I have something to give to you to as a present for making me win the bet in the lab."

Sherlock turned his head, bet?

Moriarty smiled, "Remember in the lab Sherlock? The talk of alpha and omega? Well me and the boys had a bet on which roles you two would have. I was the only one who got it right- of course! So now I have a little gift for you two for helping settle that before John's heat."

John squirmed from below Sherlock, making him back up and watch as he ran over to the bed and shoved a sheet over himself before standing up again as a human, "What the hell do you mean by, heat? "

"Sherlock didn't tell you? Well, I'm surprised." Moriarty chuckled, "You're heat, it's going to happen and let me tell you- it's going to probably be the best sex of your life. Consider it a blessing really."

"Blessing?" John was lost for words, he just looked back to Sherlock who just cocked his head.

Moriarty nodded, "You two won't be able to resist. Honestly John, you'll be begging. I swear, it's like you two have never even looked up facts about wolves- I'm ashamed. Amazing animals- really."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sherlock could tell they were going to have a very serious, very long conversation about this later. To be fair, Sherlock did try to tell him.

"Just take your gift and get to whatever you two were doing." Moriarty dismissed himself, chuckling like a male schoolgirl.

John looked towards Sherlock, eyebrow cocked, "What is this, _omega alpha_ stuff? And before you tell me to change back- I'm not. You switch."

Sherlock stared, but obeyed.

* * *

John looked away until Sherlock was clothed before he slammed the man with the rushing questions in his mind. What was he supposedly? The fuck was an alpha and omega? What the hell did Moriarty mean by heat? What had been happening to John earlier- because it was obviously related-? John turned to lay it out to Sherlock, but stopped to see all the bruises and cuts littering his pale skin.

"I- …" John tried, but found the words escaping his tongue before they could be said.

Sherlock's hair was a mess, his body leaning one way and John could feel the heat radiating off of his body from the swelling. Sherlock's scent from earlier- almost making John want to fuck him right there- was now twisting into a sort of sour tang. It was obvious Sherlock was hurt, and his body was screaming at John to fix it.

"Just go ahead and yell at me." Sherlock said quietly.

"Why would I yell at you?" John asked, making Sherlock lift his head.

Sherlock swallowed, "I uh- … Your look before."

John shook his head, "I'm not going to scream my head off- unless you do something absolutely absurd. Just come here."

Sherlock did as he said and sat next John, the close proximity letting John see the bruises through Sherlock's shirt as he stopped moving beside him. Sherlock still looked away.

"I just want you to explain to me what's going on. I promise I'm not mad, just a little- confused."

Sherlock nodded, "Moriarty was explaining to me they thought some sort of system wild wolves had applied to us, it seems it does. I'm apparently an alpha and you an omega."

"How does this change things?"

"Apparently, omegas are meant for mating and breeding to- … alphas."

John swallowed as he processed Sherlock's new confession. Well, shit. It seemed things always worked out to where John would be getting screwed up his ass- apparently literally this time. John thought to what Sherlock must have been feeling- and got reminded of what had been happening. The thoughts clicked together as the slots connected. If John had to admit it, he was happy it was Sherlock rather than anyone else to be able to take him.

John grabbed Sherlock's chin and slowly guided his face to his, their eyes meeting after some resistance on Sherlock's part, "I'm not going to freak out, okay? I'm just trying to process is all."

"I thought you were going to wind up pushing me away- but to be fair I did try telling you earlier. You said we'd talk later."

John nodded, "Guess that's my fault then. This is probably going to make you laugh but- let's talk after we sleep, yea?"

"I understand." Sherlock chuckled, "I'm sore as hell all over... Probably want to get Moriarty's present too before he decides to skin us for not accepting it yet."

John got up, retrieving the item given to them from the madman controlling them. He unwrapped it to show a book on wolves, a post-it sticking out of the side. John opened it, the section highlighting mating between an alpha and omega. It was like John was in a messed up version of sex ed.

"I swear this is going to be just like high school."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, "How so?"

John threw the book towards Sherlock, landing in his lap. After Sherlock saw the title, he swallowed. John chuckled.

"Let's just go to sleep. We'll deal with it in the morning."

John got into the other bed, throwing the book on the floor from when Sherlock threw it in embarrassment and shock, and pulled the covers above himself. Before he fully drifted off, he felt a body wrap around him. Sherlock got underneath the covers, and placed his arm over John's waist. He didn't mind, in fact, John found himself simply relaxing into Sherlock's form. Sherlock's leg slid in between John's and he felt the man behind him give a sigh of content before John finally dozed off.


	4. Chapter 4

**** Author's Note:**

**DUDE YO. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT.**

**~~~~~~Also,****_ MAJOR ACTUAL SHERLOCK UPDATE FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T_**** HEARD!**

**1. Sherlock may be returning in the UK around October- and the US at Jan./Feb. of next year. The last episode has been listed as "The Last Bow."**

**2. Audio has been released to a clip of one of the episodes pertaining to John asking Sherlock to be the best man at his wedding. Sorry about the screaming- but they weren't even supposed to take audio but us sneaky bastards did anyways. Here's a link to it:**

** watch?v=VcrbwO351tU (There's no video and you may have to look up some parts because you can't here it- but nonetheless this is the main version out. You're welcome! :D )**

**3. Gatiss or Moffat have said that the ending to the third episode will leave you saying, "They really didn't end it there did they?"(I don't know if this is good or bad because the writers can turn a pebble into the anti-Christ, so I'm slightly concerned.)**

**...**

**Anyways, I believe this is a little shorter or something I dunno- just felt like it didn't take to long to read through it or something. Either way, I'm a little happy because this is the first smutty thing I've uploaded to this sight- so I'm a tad nervous with how it turned out. XD**

**Anyways, I'm also proud that I didn't overuse anything like "cock", "penis", or "erection/boner". And I didn't get all "John couldn't help but scream, 'Oh fuck me harder Sherly!' and the man quickly obliged." because seriously that just RUINS smut for me because I'm like- whut?**

**I'm sorry I just don't like it sounding like some script to a shitty porno. XD**

**Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this- please leave reviews because I want to know if I did okay or something. XD**

**Thank you for reading! Enjoy~**

* * *

It had been one whole week since John found out he was an omega. He and Sherlock had read the book Moriarty gave them a thousand times over, sometimes saying the words in an obnoxious voice while the other laughed. It was indeed, one way to pass the time. They had a lot of it. So far, Moriarty had done nothing too severe in the seven days, only requiring a few more samples from the two of them- but his snark words and ideas of cruelty never let up.

It was day eight when things changed. John's body had an itch. It wasn't any normal one, or even the annoying ones that changed location to escape your fingers- this itch was horrific. It consisted of John's pelvic region, all of it- inside and out- like sexual tension. He tried to solve the problem by masturbating while Sherlock was in the shower- only to find it didn't let up one bit. In fact, it grew worse.

Sherlock was acting strangely that day as well, staying his distance and refusing to even look at John for more than a mere five seconds. The tension pouring off of him could be felt by John, alongside the damn itch. Sherlock would hold his breath until he almost passed out, causing him to do transitions from red to purple to blue. As a former army doctor, this worried John.

"Sherlock, what's wrong with you?" John asked, shifting uncomfortably on the ground watching his cellmate press himself into a corner. The itch had gotten more profound in the last hour.

"Nothing." Sherlock forced a smile, his eyes looking away as he began to hold his breath again.

John sighed, "Sherlock, you're trying not to breathe. By the way, your face is- purple."

Sherlock gasped for air and then held himself rigidly to the glass, "Really? I haven't noticed."

"Sherlock- out with it."

The other man chuckled nervously, "You don't understand the irony of your words."

"What makes them that way then? Look, if you're going to be this way then I'll just go ahead and go to take a-"

"No!" Sherlock barked, brow furrowed, "Not a damn shower! It's going to ruin your scent!"

John blinked, "M-My scent?"

Sherlock sighed, letting his body slide a little off of the glass, "I have some bad news for you."

John thought about it. Nothing really seemed like it could top the fact he'd been in captivity for two damn weeks getting tested against his will mainly. Nothing could top the fact Sherlock had given up his freedom to try and protect John. Let alone the fact Moriarty looked at them like a circus and treated them like dirt. How could this be bad news in comparison?

"Go ahead, tell me..." John sighed, flicking the piece of paper he'd been folding earlier out of the way.

"I think-" John heard Sherlock take a breath and swallow, "I think you're in heat..."

John looked up. He knew his heat was coming. Moriarty had told him so, and so had the book- in a way. It explained how every month an omega would go through a heat- a sex addicted state- in order to find a mate and reproduce. It seemed silly, almost cringe worthy to apply something of that term to John's body. However, John couldn't really argue with reality, could he? He knew this was going to be hell, the book stating that heats would be stronger and more in duration when the omega was unbonded.

"Fucking- … Just my luck." John laid down on the floor, face pressed against the cool synthetic wood while speaking, "Just go ahead and kill me."

"I'm not doing that!" Sherlock yelled.

John groaned, putting his hands in the air and face still on the floor, "Then what are you going to do?"

The silence from Sherlock told John a lot of things. Sherlock was holding himself back, had been the whole day. It seemed that he was getting off just from John's damn pheromones- making John unwillingly turn on a little from that fact. How was Sherlock exactly going to go through this? It seemed both of them were going to go through utter hell.

"Sherlock?" John asked from the floor, "You still alive?"

"Yes." Sherlock's voice sounded strained.

"H-How are _we_ going to do this?"

Sherlock paused and John swallowed, "I- I don't know..."

"Mate, obviously!" Moriarty chimed from the other side of the glass.

John's body tensed, fear rushing through his veins at the fact Moriarty could so easily take advantage of the state he was in. It horrified John. He imagined non-stop torture and endless amounts of testing while John just writhed on the ground aching for nothing but sex.

"Go away, Moriarty." Sherlock growled.

To be honest, John was a little happy it was Sherlock who was in the room with him. An alpha, capable of many many...- shit! Even John's mind was now plagued with his horny state! How could he get through this without even thinking a second about anything other than wanking off into the sunset with rainbows like some cheesy porno? Either way, John knew he was happy and grateful that Sherlock was protecting him. Sexual thoughts or not.

"John," Sherlock whispered, "please stop thinking- you're making this harder."

_I'll show you_ harder-_ GOD DAMMIT!_ John growled into the floor. He felt like dying, and fucking. What an odd, unfortunate mixture. He didn't move, only wishing maybe the ceiling would cave in and it'd be over.

Moriarty sighed, "I'm telling you now, I'm human and I can smell him. It's very alluring."

Sherlock growled from behind John, "Don't you even think about it."

Doesn't matter, already am in a way. John cursed his brain as random images of him performing adult pleasures filled his mind. He could hear the groan from Sherlock as John felt heat pool in his groin and a wave of excitement pass through him. Curse this damn heat!

"Just mate already! Quit acting like children and become adults!" Moriarty snapped, "I think you'll both find it very enjoyable if you do."

John's breathing hitched in his throat at Moriarty's words. John pictured Sherlock on top of him, just like a week earlier while they were wolves. John remembered wanting Sherlock's touch, his warmth, his damn scent all over his body above being free. He remembered the hot wet drag of Sherlock's tongue as he licked John's throat in quick, hard swipes. The feel of the heat of Sherlock's form above him. John offering up his neck, inviting Sherlock in to take him completely. The thoughts sent John and his itch coursing with pheromones and energy. If John had ever been turned on before in his life- well, this time blew it out of the water.

He could feel Sherlock's caressing touch, fingers brushing over his skin and mixing his scent with John's. He saw the curls above him, the pale eyes staring back. John could feel the heat radiating from Sherlock above him. Fingers intertwining with his and the feeling of being whole. John had never felt so turned on and loved before.

"J-John..." Sherlock whispered, body shaking, actually shaking as he held himself back. Even Moriarty seemed pressed a little into the glass from outside.

John felt his heat really start. The itch had become nothing, compared to the overpowering wave of want and lust and warmth. His body ached and convulsed with need while he scratched at the floor with his nails. He could hear the low growls form in Sherlock's chest, starting to brim as another wave passed over John's body making him gasp.

"I- I'm going to go now..." Moriarty squeaked. If John weren't so ready for Sherlock to take him, he'd laugh.

He felt a low, possessive growl from beside him, hands grabbing his sides and flipping him over so fast he was blinking his eyes open to Sherlock's face, his body so pleasantly over John's. Sherlock's legs were straddling John's hips, making the man below shiver with arousal. Sherlock's eyes were blown wide, almost black. He leaned down, nuzzling his face into John's neck as he purred. A moan escaped John's lips as Sherlock began to pepper light kisses on John's over-sensitive skin.

"More..." John begged, his back arching off of the floor and into Sherlock's body.

His request was answered by Sherlock beginning to lick John's neck. The swipes of the familiar tongue made John's throat and body vibrate with pleasure. The reaction made Sherlock pause, sucking on the parts of skin before moving on to unmarked, vulnerable throat. John was gasping, hands and fingers intertwining and grasping Sherlock's hair as the man above did magic to the omega's skin.

"Clothes- off, now. " Sherlock growled. John shakily threw his shirt over his head, Sherlock pulling the sweatpants off of John's body and his groin making it's presence happily known.

Sherlock returned to John's neck, hungrier and rougher than before. If John were a wolf, he would have been whining his head off, but in his human self moans and gasps were escaping his mouth as Sherlock began to nip at the skin.

"God you smell delicious. " Sherlock moved to John's collarbones.

John felt the pull of his skin as Sherlock sucked it roughly, his tongue leaving wet trails John could feel whenever the man breathed. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, back and neck arching as Sherlock turned his lovely attention back to John's neck. He apparently noticed how squirmy and loud John got whenever Sherlock even looked at it. John could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He felt Sherlock shift from on top of him, and somehow the man had magically worked out of his clothes.

Next thing John knew, Sherlock had placed himself inside of John, beginning to thrust upwards as John let out a squeak or pleasure. The possessive growling from Sherlock only edged John more, pleasure rolling over the man like waves. Sherlock pressed his lips to John's. He was shoving every bit of feral urge of want and lust into his lips, translating into the kiss for John to receive.

John gasped as he was near the edge, the burning building with every movement of Sherlock. He could feel the pulsing of his body, and John could tell Sherlock was more than happy right now. Sherlock bit his bottom lip, John opening as Sherlock slid his tongue in. He could taste his sweat and salt from when Sherlock licked him earlier in his mouth. Sherlock hummed when John jolted up when Sherlock thrusted just right.

"_S-Sherlock! _" John moaned, his body shaking as his body started to orgasm.

Sherlock chuckled, leaning into John's ear as he kept going through John's chemical high, "You don't how much I love hearing you moaning my name." He bit John's earlobe.

John felt his back reach the cold floor as his orgasm finished, Sherlock also falling down from his as he tried to get his breath back. For a moment, they didn't move. John just closed his eyes and tried to calm his frantic heart. When they opened, Sherlock was looking at him. Their eyes interlocked, and John could see that the cold ice he'd felt before under the gaze start to crack and melt around the edges.

"Glad to see you two finished going at it like animals." Moriarty cooed from the other side of the glass.

Sherlock shifted off of John, throwing John's clothes back on him and staring at Moriarty with nothing but his pants on. John admired the sheet of sweat present on his skin, and remembered the glorious reason for it.

Sherlock clenched his teeth, "I'm positive the only animal here is you."

Moriarty chuckled, "Nice comeback for a man who just got done wanking his friend. This certainly won't be the last time, I assure you."

"What do you want Moriarty?"

The mad doctor just grinned, "I wanted to come congratulate you. It's kind of like a deal when two endangered animals breed. There was champagne and the whole nine yards. It went on the whole time. Just like to inform you it was an hour long."

John took a breath and found it stuck in his throat. It really hadn't felt like any hour. They had watched the whole thing, too- and celebrated. Honestly, it shouldn't even be a surprise they were monitoring something so major in their "livestock's" lives. He just took a hand and wiped his face and let his head fall to the fake wood again. His shirt felt awkward against his heated back and cool floor.

"Embarrassed?"

John closed his eyes, "No, just good to know we're like animal porn to you guys."

He heard a soft chuckle from Sherlock, good to know he wasn't bothered by someone watching his intimate moments. Just- good.

John swallowed and tried to remember to breathe.

"Well, I'm about to be off, pets. Sherlock, could you be a dear and next time face the other way? We saw your back most of the time."

Sherlock growled as Moriarty left. After the man slid through the double doors, Sherlock's gaze immediately fell upon John, "You alright?"

"Yea just, wasn't expecting us to go at it and such. No offense just, took me off guard is all."

Sherlock nodded, "Feeling any better?"

John felt the slow burn from when the whole thing started, and he was pretty sure that it would build back up into the raging flames and soon enough he'd be begging for Sherlock to shag again, "Yea, but I'm positive this isn't through. I'm sorry about that."

"No no, it's fine. I assure you it's quite okay." Sherlock smirked.

John found himself doing the same, "You know, we can do something before the need to just pound each other out of existence comes back. What comes to mind?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Hmm... I haven't got the slightest."

They sat for a moment, nothing but silence around them. In a way, it was nice. Compared to earlier when John was practically sounding like a speaker to a porno. He sighed, breathing in the air. It smelled of musk, Sherlock scent mixed with something- sweeter. John figured it must have been his scent, considering. In a way it smelt pleasing.

"I rather do enjoy the fragrance." Sherlock commented, pulling John out of his daze.

John nodded, "As do I."

"John?"

He looked up, seeing Sherlock staring at the floor, "I- I never expected for this to happen either really. I planned to hold myself back through it... It was just- your scent and how you looked on the floor... I couldn't- … Are you upset with me?"

"Why would I be?" John's brow moving in confusion, "You just gave me one of the best sexual encounters of my life!"

"Really?" Sherlock looked up, smirking.

John laughed, "Yes, really. I'm happy with the fact you tried- it means you cared. I understand if you couldn't help yourself- trust me I do. I feel bad that I have to do this to you because of some damn role my body now plays. It's a little unfair."

"Unfair doesn't even begin to cover your scent."

John tilted his head, "How do I smell?"

Sherlock chuckled darkly, "Like a sex stop- a really good one."

"Oh..."

"You frankly smell appealing right now- but earlier went it really hit- I swear I've never been so controlled by a fragrance."

John laughed. It was a little nice to know he smelled the equivalent of some sort of sex gas station. At least Sherlock had given him the consideration of waiting. John found the irritating itch coming back, sending nervous tingles up his spine if the breeze caught him just right. He could see Sherlock tense up as another wave from John's heat washed over.

"Ready for round two?"

John looked towards Sherlock with a dark smile and wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh god yes."

The next five days were a sexual blur to John. It would be a non-stop cycle of shagging between the two, and John found himself quite sore. Moriarty hadn't pressed them much- probably taking advantage of the free show they couldn't help but put on. It was frankly amazing, when John could dully remember the feeling through the blurs of orgasms and heat. Sherlock had seemed like a fucking god- literally- to John. He found a small part worshiping him.

"So, you're finally off then?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded, "Yep, I'm a little bit grateful. Sometimes I wondered if you were going to shag me through the floor."

"I wouldn't doubt that. I promise next time I'll be more gentle."

John raised an eyebrow. Next time? It made him ponder how long he and Sherlock were really going to be held up here in Baskerville against their will. Surely someone had caught on to their absence by now, right? Maybe John's relatives still thought he was fighting in Afghanistan- and it didn't matter with Harry because she was plastered constantly. It made John swallow down his tight throat, how long would they be in here for? What would happen to them?

"John?"

John turned towards Sherlock, a large amount of fear gnawing at John's gut, "How many 'next time's are we going to have, Sherlock?" John's voice sounded small and wavering.

Sherlock walked over to John's side of the bed, "I can't tell you what's going to happen. But I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

"Really?" Sherlock watched as John looked down, "Can I tell you something?"

"Always."

John swallowed, "I think you're all I have now."

Sherlock stilled. John could feel the tension from the man beside and looked down to his lap. He twiddled his fingers, trying to wait as Sherlock processed John's statement. It seemed a long time before Sherlock even exhaled, his muscles still tight. John was beginning to regret telling Sherlock the truth as a hand wrapped around his shoulder.

"John, I'm not really good at sentimental things or feelings," Sherlock inhaled, "but I assure you that you have so much more than me. I know you may object, deny my words- however, it is true. John, you are truly a wonderful person, and the fact such an unfortunate thing has been placed upon your shoulders- your left one in all seriousness- is a tragic thing."

John stared, "Tragic? …"

"John, when I first received your file two weeks ago, I saw a man who had just gotten the shortest stick from the bunch. For that, I am terribly sorry."

"Sorry for me? You injected yourself with my blood so you could protect me. I don't understand why, or even any logical reason to sacrifice yourself for me- so in all truth Sherlock, I think you have gotten the worst out of all of us."

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't think you get the point of this John."

John shook his head, "Honestly, what is self-pity or arguing going to do for us? We're stuck here. I've already forgotten what the breeze feels like unless it's from an air conditioner."

Sherlock audibly swallowed next to John. He could hear the breath hitching in his friend's throat. If John would have any remorse or guilt for saying the truth, then it'd wait till later. Currently, he was too tired to care. Tired of being trapped and stuck knowing the next day will be here inside a damn box.

"Did I ever tell you about Mycroft?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

John shook his head, "N-No... Not that I can remember. He was the guy that started all of... this."

"He's my brother," Sherlock looked towards the ground, "one I'm very ashamed of. He may be the older sibling, but he's rather intelligent and rather obtuse. My parents raised me to be like him, strive to follow in his footsteps- but I found myself only living in a shadow. You see John, my brother has always been a problem. Only in the past five years has it gotten completely out of my control."

"How so?"

Sherlock looked up to the wall, "He stuck me in here. Afraid I had a problem with drugs earlier on in my life and it seemed this was the way for my brother to get closure and payback."

"Payback? For what?"

Sherlock chuckled a little, "I ruined his name for a bit. I was labeled 'dead beat' and it seemed to follow him around wherever he went."

John watched as Sherlock just stared at the floor, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing you did John," Sherlock smiled faintly, "it's just sibling rivalry. I was stuck here in return for Mycroft having to clean me up for his reputation. I told you I was forced here too. I've had to use my skills against things I believed should be left to nature's hand. All for my brother to have a seat in an office with some fancy role in government."

John saw the bitter distaste for his elder brother in Sherlock's face. He could feel his muscles tensing under his skin as he had worded the feeling into words. All in all, John did feel pity. Family was meant to be sort of sacred, to protect and show you comfort and kindness. It seems as if Sherlock was ripped from this early on within his life. John felt sorry for him.

"I don't want or need your pity, John." Sherlock sighed, "Family has mattered to me fairly little- along with most things. Except- one thing."

John tilted his head, "What's the one thing, then?"

"You."


	5. Chapter 5

****Author's Note:**

**OMG GUYS- I ACTUALLY FINISHED. **

**I FINALLY FINISHED A STORY.**

**ME SO HAPPY!**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy this last chapter. It took a bit and I've had some trouble with getting inspiration sometimes- but I think it worked out in the end. (:**

**-WARNING: MILD GORE, MINOR DEATH (NOT JOHN/SHERLOCK), AND VIOLENCE ALONG WITH SMUT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.-**

* * *

Sherlock had been expecting Moriarty to do something horrible for some time. The man was insane, obviously. He had a habit of turning violent at a moments notice- something that ended up really horribly in the end.

John had been sleeping at first, Sherlock awake because he never really did anything other than be with John. He watched the man's chest rise and fall with ease as he slept. Sherlock couldn't help but smile. All in all, even though the almost near month they now both had inside this cage would have been crippling, Sherlock would admit it was easier with John there.

Moriarty seemed to notice that.

Sherlock felt the dart hit him as another rise of John's chest began. His vision was going blurry and his body limp. As Sherlock was dragged away, he could see John awakening. He jumped up as they shut the door, Sherlock being pulled by his hands elsewhere. John began pounding the glass.

"_Please!_ Let him go! Let him go!" He screamed, looking towards Sherlock with eyes wide and full of fear.

No one listened.

Sherlock watched John fall to the floor as the doors closed and Sherlock lost consciousness.

When Sherlock awoke, he was in a cell alone. He immediately tried anything to find John. He wasn't nearby, and the only traces of scent was on Sherlock himself. The alpha found himself growling and looking for anyway to escape. After looking for at least an hour, Sherlock gave up. As soon as he did so, Moriarty came in.

"Where's John?! What have you done with him!"

Moriarty chuckled, "I want to see what separation does to you two- and also because I felt like it."

Sherlock would make him pay- he was sure of it. He'd make Mycroft pay. He'd kill them himself to show how angry and pissed off he was. The loud snarling came as a little surprise, but it just told Moriarty what a mistake he had just made.

"Getting upset? You should see John. He's in pieces I'm afraid."

Sherlock was at the glass in front of Moriarty the next second, "Pray that John is alive and well or I will rip you slowly limb from limb."

"He is- I was going to tell you but you so_ rudely_ interrupted- just not too happy. I believe he made his hands bleed from beating on the glass."

Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Take me back."

Moriarty blinked, "Are you being serious?"

"Yes," Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Take. Me. Back."

"Can't do that I'm afraid. Besides, you know me- I like to have fun. See, we're going to make John spend his heat alone this time."

Sherlock swallowed. They could do anything to John. Sherlock remembered that during John's heat previously- other than the wondrous sex- John had small control on his body. He would squirm on the ground till Sherlock came and fixed it. Moriarty no doubt was doing this to torture John, and that fact alone made Sherlock want to attack him. Even so, Moriarty currently had the upper hand, so Sherlock would wait.

"I believe you're going to be able to hear him from here- let alone smell him. May I ask, what does it smell like to you?"

Sherlock just glared in response.

"I imagine it's going to be an interesting experience for the two of you, and I'm really looking forward to it."

With that statement, Moriarty was gone. Sherlock could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest as the beginning of his panic set in. John, all he could think and fear about was John. He knew the heat was painful just from waiting till you could shag again, and literally five minutes were torture. If John was in pain before, he was surely going to be in a world of hurt soon. The thought of John alone during his heat was enough to make Sherlock's skin crawl. Literally in fact, as he walked around agitated in wolf form.

He'd kill Moriarty- oh yes. Make it slow, painful. Show him how much blood he could lose before he passed out, show him how deep a bruise can reach before something breaks or splits. He'd show him the power of his anger, the seeping of his teeth into his horrid flesh. He'd mutilate him, leave him in agony as he slowly bled out to death or died due to infection or injury. Oh yes, the thought of Moriarty falling under his hand or teeth was enough to make him growl in anticipation for it to be reality.

That's when he began to smell it. Sweet, strong, all_ John_. He couldn't help but feel his arousal as the smell shot immediately to his groin. He found himself pacing, searching for John so he could feel him, fill him, intertwine their scents until they became one.

Suddenly, the scent changed, it became deeper, more desperate than anything. Just the deep longing in it made Sherlock want to just rub himself raw against the glass. It hurt smelling it, a physical burn in his nose, throat, and groin as it kept seeping around him.

Growls escaped his lips, possessive, wanting. He kept pacing, tail raised and ready to pounce on anything that seemed it might be an omega. Sherlock stopped moving completely. This wasn't any omega, it was John. John, sweet lovely John, being alone during this. If the smell alone was to give Sherlock aches- he didn't want to know what John was feeling. A twist started in his stomach as he realized this was Moriarty's intention. Separate them when they needed each other most.

The snarl escaped him as he could faintly smell Moriarty over John's overpowering aroma. It was sickening, like a punch to the gut when you were sick. A comment made to you when you were at a low point that seemed to gash you completely open. The shudders from both scents made Sherlock start ramming into the glass with two objectives. First, was to escape and find and kill Moriarty. Second, take John away so that Sherlock could claim him, he'd never have to deal with this again.

The thought of John being his, and his only- made Sherlock throw even more at the glass with force.

* * *

John was incapacitated.

This heat was horrendous. Before, he had Sherlock to come ease the pain and burn away by shagging him senseless. Now, he was all alone and Sherlock missing. John couldn't tell if the twisting in his abdomen was from the heat or the fact Sherlock was nowhere to be found.

Waves of pain and want came like a torrent every few seconds, rocking and bashing into John as if he were a small vessel in a too large sea. He became aware of the fact he was slowly edging himself towards underneath the bed. His wolf form making whines of discomfort and protest against any other movement other than sex.

"I've got a little surprise for you."

Moriarty led another dog- a normal one by the scent- near the glass. He could feel the heat progressing worse and worse, and he only found his deep wish for Sherlock's presence growing. The dog seemed alien- after all John was part human. He saw no mind, only animal. It was a German Shepard, and by the looks of it- attracted to John's scent. He only cowered more under the bed. Sharp pangs from heat and fear pulsed through his body. If only Sherlock were here.

"Sick him boy!"

The dog rushed in, growling and biting towards John from the sides of the bed frame. John was glad there was a wall behind him as he flattened himself against it- snarling. The dog only pursued more, paws rushing at John with nothing but animalistic desire. With Sherlock it seemed better, like it was something other than just fucking each other senseless- however hard it may be to believe. It was just unexplainable.

John lashed out, biting the shepherd's paw hard enough until he tasted blood and it yipped in pain. John snarled, baring his teeth and flattening his ears. The warning was clear- _touch me, and I'll kill you_. The dog backed off for a bit, limping, but pacing around the bed waiting.

"Oh just let the magic happen John! I can see you're in pain because of your stubbornness! Stop being such a baby and take it like a man!"

The snarl from John was deafening. His body shaking from the thought of having Moriarty sending an actual dog on him, and that his heat was beginning to literally pain him. His muscles burned, twitching as if it stop the fire building within them. His eyes were darting between the pacing Shepard and Moriarty standing "innocently" behind glass. If there was anything he wished for more- it be that he was dead.

No, maybe it hadn't of reached the point to death being the better option- but it was certainly reaching there. John just really wanted Sherlock. He wanted those curls between his fingers, he wanted the lean long body pressed against his- sexual or not. The warmth of both of his forms. His scent. Just _Sherlock._

He could feel the pang of pain, needles pressing into his whole form, making him yip in surprise. The dog saw his chance, and began to try and reach John while he tried to regain himself. It ended with the dog pacing again, this time with blood dripping from his face.

"What the-!"

The scent hit John like a pain reliever, instantly the burning dropped a few hundred degrees and his mind began to settle a little. Even though he was surely in the deep, deep possession of his heat- he was still a little bit more level headed than before.

It Sherlock.

* * *

It had taken time, but with enough persistence and even Sherlock shifting and throwing the metal bed frame at the glass- he made it out. The whole time John's scent mutated. Something once so sweet was now beginning to sour with fear and the fact John had no way of easing the heat up. It was like letting a fruit over-ripen, and Sherlock was not going to let that happen. He shifted back and burst through the doors.

He could smell the dog as he sprinted towards John's scent, anger and momentum building as he neared the threat against John. His John- his alone and no one else's. When he busted through the doors, the nice surprise of Moriarty's presence made Sherlock even more furious. He wound up running to the man and practically kneecapping him in seconds. The taste of his rusty, salty blood made something in Sherlock growl with approval. No one would ever hurt John- not if Sherlock had something to do about it.

Moriarty's screams were even heard more so as Sherlock silenced the dog for good inside John's room. He was still huddled against the wall, full into an intense heat that made Sherlock want to shag him there- but he stopped. For one, Moriarty was still alive and so pleasantly near and injured. But the biggest reason, was the look of terror in John's body. Since Sherlock had bitten_ oh so satisfyingly_ into Moriarty's knees, John had let his wall down a little. Now that the dog was dead John could finally panic without the fear of fully getting killed in the next second. He was shaking, his scent sending vibes that made Sherlock's chest clench painfully.

Moriarty first.

John second.

He slowly walked towards the man before him, eyes glinting with the strong distaste he felt. His lip raised, showing his canines as Sherlock growled at Moriarty below. He'd make this worth every second John were trapped inside this place. He worked slowly, snapping bones, flesh and ligaments. Blood pooling as he slashed skin and veins before mauling Moriarty's face. When he was sure the man wouldn't live no matter what, he licked the blood from his lips that he'd been waiting and craving to taste for weeks. Months.

The alarm started going off when Sherlock saw Moriarty's battered and bloody chest stop moving.

He ran over to John, still huddled and shaking underneath the bed and slid under.

"_Can you move?_ "

John lifted his snout, blood from the shepherd crusting his lips, "_I can try. Everything hurts..._ "

"_I know, I'm so sorry. We've got to go, we need to escape while everyone's flipping shit._ "

John snorted lightly, "_Are we staying in these forms?_ "

"_You will, I'll change when need be, for right now I think it'd be too much stress and it would just makes things worse. Besides, worse comes to worse you're faster in this form._ "

Sherlock could tell by the twitch of John's face that comment was understood fully. The worst being John the only to escape. Sherlock either captured, or even dead. It made John cringe, and another wave of heat passed over making the two tense.

"_Did I mention before I despised heats?_ "

Sherlock helped John get out from under the bed, ears up an alert for the sound of unwanted company. John wasn't far behind him, but Sherlock could tell that if they were to escape- or just John- they needed to get out, and fast. The smell of John's heat was climbing, and Sherlock knew he had to hurry.

He shifted, typing in a code into a computer and smirking as he pressed enter, "Here's a little surprise for my brother."

Once the virus was sent, all the doors opened and all alarms kept going off. Surely this would buy John and himself some time. Sherlock shifted back, helping John through one of the last sets of double doors. Sherlock could smell it, the grass and the dirt. Outside- freedom. He opened the last set of doors and helped John out into the fresh air.

"Going somewhere?"

Sherlock snapped his head over to Mycroft, men lining his flanks with guns raised and aimed. John whimpered beside him, pressing his hot heat ridden body as fear once again started taking it's toll.

"_John, I want you to run._ "

The whimper from John showed his distaste of the idea.

"_I understand... If one of us should get free it should be you. I made you a promise John, I'll die to keep it. I want you to just go for the forest- run until your body can't anymore. Promise me you'll do that for me._ "

The look in John's eyes spoke many words. Sherlock could see the fear, he could see the sadness, he could see the small signs of John's heat- but overall, he saw the words, "I promise" within their gaze.

"Listen Sherlock, I don't know what's gotten into you- literally so to speak- but this... I thought we were better than that."

Sherlock hadn't realized he shifted, "Better? You think I'm the one who's been doing wrong? You locked an innocent man up and expected me to solve it so you'd be able to support a goddamn war!"

Mycroft sighed, "What I do is my own business-"

"Coming from a man who threatened his own kin, then proceeded to let him and his mate be tortured with no less than a batted eyelash! And if you say that you want _privacy_- let me stick you in there and see how it feels!"

Mycroft looked up, unblinking, "Mate?"

Sherlock shook his head, Mycroft turning his attention to a different subject, "Yes- mate. But that doesn't change the fact of what you didn't do and did! I thought you loved me, I thought you cared just a tiny insignificant bit! Now all I am to you is some damn experiment. And John! You'll fucking pay for all that you tried to do to him and have done- I swear to you that you will."

Sherlock took a quick glance at John, eyes wide and body tense. He was still shaking, but he kept himself mostly still and eyes glued onto Sherlock's body.

"You're bonded to John?" Mycroft asked.

If Sherlock had time and not a gun pointed towards John and was wearing footwear, he'd chuck his shoe at his ignorant brother, "Not bonded- not yet. I care about John- he's been the only person who cared throughout my life. Not even you Mycroft. He's worth so much more than you are."

The words seemed to sting Mycroft, wincing a fraction that only Sherlock was able to notice, "I thought we were brothers..."

"Are you obtuse? You held John and I against our will, tested on us like we weren't people, gave us to a madman who beat us if he felt like it, and expected us to give you results so you could build something nature never intended!"

The pause was sufficient enough for Sherlock, preparing his body to shift as he said, "You're dead to me."

In the next few seconds, smoke started flying out of the ground as Sherlock grabbed the scruff of John's neck and lifted him. The point of this was apparent, time for John to go. He turned for a split second, eyes pleading but a small bit understanding twinged at his pupils- and he ran. Now Sherlock had to get to business.

The virus had worked perfectly, and Sherlock was quite proud that he'd figured out how to turn on the gas valves around the entrance late one night. The knowledge seemed invaluable until now. Sherlock attacked men who weren't ready for him, guns whipping around and trying to figure out where anything was. The cloud of steam- as Sherlock programmed it for- was so hot and thick they were all but cooking in their suits. Good thing they had gloves for their guns, or their hands would sear.

It didn't matter however, as Sherlock finished off the last man, turning towards his brother's scent. His heart was beating wildly and Sherlock sauntered forward towards his target. Blood meant nothing to him now, this was Mycroft- someone who threatened to hurt John. He quickly pounced on the man, snarling as his body went underneath him and hit the ground. Their eyes connected, and Sherlock could feel the pulses of terror in Mycroft's veins.

The message was clear:

_Make one wrong move, I'll kill you. Follow me or try and find me or John, I'll kill you. In fact, I may just kill you now for the hell of it._

A small part of Sherlock stopped. Sure, his brother was fucked up and was mental- but it was family. And no matter that, if Sherlock killed him, he'd be just as bad as Moriarty. Sherlock wouldn't regret killing him though, that was necessary and strictly unavoidable. Plus the man deserved every second of it.

Suddenly, John's scent made it to his nose. It wasn't like before- no. It seemed longing, only for one thing and one person only, Sherlock. It was as if the sweet perfume had been tweaked to attract him, like a personal touch on a gift. He could sense John waiting, calling out for Sherlock to just come back. Just stop and come back.

The decision was made. Only kill Mycroft if he_ had_ to.

He snarled, closing some of the distance between them, threat clear. His eyes darkened as Mycroft shuddered, closing his as he waited for canines to snag around his throat. Nothing came, as Sherlock jumped off and ran into the words. Trying to find John.

He had to find John.

* * *

The feel of leaves crunching underneath John's paws was a huge relief. Trees blurred past and the underbrush was just a constant smudged blob. He dreamed about doing this for a while now, and it felt almost like a fantasy rather than reality. The musk of the forest made John's aches a little better. He was free- finally free.

But at a price.

Sherlock could be captured, could even be dead. The latter fell into John's mind as he slowed a little. His next heat wave would be coming over him soon, and knowing he no longer had Sherlock to comfort him and ease it away, he'd be forced to hide and stop. He found a small hole-like burrow underneath a tree and climbed in. Digging away some of the dirt and twigs and other forest debris as he made his makeshift nest more comfortable. He settled down, trying to calm himself.

Two pains were in his body. The inferno of the heat, and the ache of losing Sherlock. John had recognized the first easily- the second just a bit more was needed. He remembered reading that sometimes wolves could form temporary bonds when time and a heat were spent together. He guessed this was just part of it. John's body quivered.

The pulse of his heart that came next brought on an even deeper phase of John's heat he didn't know existed. It was a cool kind, one that burned from it being so cold. He was shivering, despite knowing it was spring or summer and he could probably melt ice five feet from him. This chill however was new. He squirmed, noises escaping as he felt it pull on the fibers of his body.

It was beginning to make him feel hypothermic when Sherlock's scent faintly tickled his nose. His head shot up, and he barked out, calling to Sherlock and telling him where he was. No sooner as he did so, Sherlock was shoving his nose down and touching John's.

The contact made John's spine tingle and spark with a warm caressing sensation the eased off the icy burn. Sherlock slid inside the hole and started licking John's throats with possessive growls. John immediately threw his head back, whining for Sherlock to just take him. He felt the nipping turn into a full on bite that made pleasure rock through his body.

Next thing he knew they were in human form, and Sherlock was still biting into John's now human neck. He was gasping, back arching into Sherlock's body as he hummed, tongue lapping at the bite wound. John felt the thrusts beginning and curled his legs around Sherlock as he began to slowly please him.

"Sherlock..." John moaned softly, the man above peppering his neck and humming with content.

Although John's body was screaming at him to make Sherlock go faster, John couldn't bring himself to. This time was sweeter, softer. John found himself smiling as Sherlock kept up as if he were a china doll.

"I love how easy you're going on me."

Sherlock looked up and smiled softly, "We did just bond. I just feel as though you deserve something other than me dominating you- especially right now. I think this is better anyways."

John nodded. It was nice. Sherlock had admitted earlier to wanting John to bond with him, he called him his mate. The new label made John smile. He remembered doing his own version of asking Sherlock to bond, sending pheromones to assert how badly he wanted him. John felt how close he was and pulled Sherlock's face up from his neck so their lips could touch.

It was a slow, but good kiss. Sherlock bit John's lower lip, a hand sliding around his jawline as he kept going. John moaned into the kiss, feeling the heat coil in his groin and abdomen, and he begged with his tongue for Sherlock to open his mouth. He did, and John's tongue swept over his teeth and massaged against his. Sherlock growled possessively a little, and John found the vibrations from the low baritone quite pleasing.

In seconds, the two were over the edge, gasping and holding on tight to each other as they orgasmed in sync, breath shallow and sharp as it exited in little clouds from their lungs. John threw his head back, his spine lifting as Sherlock sucked on the bond bite.

"I love you." John whispered, fingers running through the soft, sweaty curls he learned to adore. He brought his neck back down and looked towards Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up, his eyes interlocking as John saw the change. The ice, cold and shielding to most, breaking completely and replaced with something else. Something warm, affectionate and loving. John smiled, knowing that Sherlock was saying in his own way he loved him back.

It was a long night, a long day, and a long two months. For all it was worth, John was just finally happy he and Sherlock were together.

Together, and free.

* * *

**The end. Or is it?**

**-DUN DUN DUN!-**


End file.
